MOUNTAmEERING 



SIERRA NEVADA 



BY 



CLARENCE KING. 



"Altiora petimus.' 




BOSTON: 
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, 

Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. 

1872. 



?5^'.^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 

BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



/ 



P 



^\^ 



University Press : Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
Cambridge. 



1 



Gin 
Johi'i M oiQS 

H.2eo4. 



TO 



JOSIAH DWIGHT WHITNEY 



AND HIS STAFF, 



MY COMKADES OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY OF CALIFORNIA, 



^fjese fEoutttatneertng "Notts 



ARE CORDIALLY INSCRIBED. 



CONTENTS 



— ♦— 

Page 

I. The Range 1 

II. Through the Forest ...... 25 

III. The Ascent of Mount Tyndall .... 49 

lY. The Descent of Mount Tyndall .... 76 

V. The NewtyS of Pike 94 

VI. Kaweah's Run . 112 

VII. Around Yosemite Walls 133 

'YIII. A Sierra Storm 154 

IX. Merced Ramblings 177 

X. Cut-off Copples's 206 

XI. Shasta 223 

XII. Shasta Flanks 246 

XIII. Mount Whitney 264 

XIV. The People 282 



MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA, 



I. 

THE EANGE. 

The western margin of this continent is built of a suc- 
cession of mountain chains folded in broad corrugations, 
like waves of stone upon whose seaward base beat the 
mild small breakers of the Pacific. 

By far the grandest of all these ranges is the Sierra 
Nevada, a long and massive uplift lying between the arid 
deserts of the Great Basin and the Californian exuberance 
of grain-field and orchard ; its eastern slope, a defiant wall 
of rock plunging abruptly down to the plain ; the western, 
a long, grand sweep, well watered and overgrown with 
cool, stately forests ; its crest a line of sharp, snowy peaks 
springing into the sky and catching the alpenglow long 
after the sun has set for all the rest of America. 

The Sierras have a structure and a physical character 
which are individual and unique. To Professor Whitney 
and his corps of the Geological Survey of Cahfornia is 
due the honor of first gaining a scientific knowledge of 
the form, plan, and physical conditions of the Sierras. 
How many thousands of miles, how many toilsome climbs, 
we made, and what measure of patience came to be ex- 
pended, cannot be told ; but the general harvest is gath- 
ered in, and already a volume of great interest (the fore- 
runner of others) has been published. 



2 MOUNTAINEEEING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

The ancient history of the Sierras goes back to a period 
when the Atlantic and Pacific were one ocean, in whose 
depths great accumulations of sand and powdered stone 
were gathering and being spread out in level strata. 

It is not easy to assign the age in which these sub- 
marine strata were begun, nor exactly the boundaries of 
the embryo continents from whose shores the primeval 
breakers gTound away sand and gravel enough to form 
such incredibly thick deposits. 

It appears most likely that the Sierra region was sub- 
merged from the earliest Palaeozoic, or perhaps even the 
Azoic, age. Slowly the deep ocean valley filled up, until, 
in the late Triassic period, the uppermost tables were in 
water shallow enough to drift the sands and clays into 
wavje and ripple ridges. With what immeasurable pa- 
tience, what infinite deliberation, has nature amassed the 
materials for these mountains ! Age succeeded age ; form 
after form of animal and plant life perished in the unfold- 
ing of the great plan of development, while the suspended 
sands of that primeval sea sunk slowly down and were 
stretched in level plains upon the floor of stone. 

Early in the Jurassic period an impressive and far- 
reaching movement of the earth's crust took place, dur- 
ing which the bed of the ocean rose in crumpled waves 
towering higli in the air and forming the mountain frame- 
work of the Western United States. This system of 
upheavals reached as far east as Middle Wyoming and 
stretched from ^lexico probably into Alaska. Its numer- 
ous ridges and chains, having a general northeast trend, 
were crowded together in one broad zone whose western 
and most lofty member is the SieiTa Nevada. During aU 
of the Cretaceous period, and a part of the Tertiary, the 
Pacific beat upon its seaward foot-hills, tearing to pieces 
the rocks, crumbhn^ and grindinoj the shores, and, drift- 



THE RANGE. 3 

ing tlie powdered stone and pebbles beneath its waves, 
scattered them again in layers. This submarine table- 
land fringed the whole base of the range and extended 
westward an unknown distance under the sea. To this 
perpetual sea- wearing of the Sierra Nevada base was add- 
ed the detritus made by the cutting out of canons, which 
in great volumes continually poured into the Pacific, and 
w^as arranged upon its bottom by currents. 

In the late Tertiary period a chapter of very remarka- 
ble events occurred. For a second time the evenly laid 
beds of the sea-bottom were crumpled by the shrinking of 
the earth. The ocean flowed back into deeper and nar- 
rower limits, and, fronting the Sierra E'evada, appeared 
the present system of Coast Eanges. The intermediate 
depression, or sea-trough as I like to call it, is the valley 
of California, and is therefore a more recent continental 
feature than the Sierra Nevada. At once then from the 
folded rocks of the Coast Eanges, from the Sierra summits 
and the inland plateaus, and from numberless vents caused 
by tlie fierce dynamical action, there poured out a general 
deluge of melted rock. From the bottom of the sea sprung 
up those fountains of lava whose cooled material forms 
many of the islands of the Pacific, and, all along the coast 
of America, like a system of answering beacons, blazed up 
volcanic chimneys. The rent mountains glowed with 
outpourings of molten stone. Sheets of lava poured 
down the slopes of the Sierra, covering an immense 
proportion of its surface, only the high granite and 
metamorphic peaks reaching above the deluge. Elvers 
and lakes floated up in a cloud of steam and were gone 
forever. The misty sky of these volcanic days glowed 
with innumerable lurid reflections, and, at intervals along 
the crest of the range, great cones arose, blackening the 
sky with their plumes of mineral smoke. At length, hav- 



4 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ing exhausted themselves, the volcanoes burned lower and 
lower, and, at last, by far the greater number went out 
altogether. With a tendency to extremes which " devel- 
opment " geologists would hesitate to admit, nature passed 
under the dominion of ice and snow. 

The vast amount of ocean water which had been vapor- 
ized floated over the land, condensed upon liill-tops, chilled 
the lavas, and finally buried beneath an icy covering all 
the higher parts of the mountain system. According to 
well-known laws, the overburdened summits unloaded 
themselves by a system of glaciers. The whole Sierra 
crest was one pile of snow, from whose base craAvled out 
the ice-rivers, wearing their bodies into the rock, sculptur- 
ing as they went the forms of valleys, and brightening the 
surface of their tracks by the friction of stones and sand 
wdiich were bedded, armor-like, in their nether surface. 
Having made their way down the slope of the Sierra, they 
met a lowland temperature of sufficient warmth to arrest 
and waste them. At last, from causes which are too intri- 
cate to be discussed at present, they shrank slowly back into 
the higher summit fastnesses, and there gradually perished, 
leaving only a crest of snow. The ice melted, and upon 
the whole plateau, little by little, a thin layer of soil accu- 
mulated, and, replacing the snow, there sprang up a forest 
of pines, whose shadows fall pleasantly to-day over rocks 
which were once torrents of lava and across the burnished 
pathways of ice. Elvers, pure and sparkling, thread the 
bottom of these gigantic glacier valleys. The volcanoes 
are extinct, and the whole theatre of this impressive geo- 
logical drama is now the most glorious and beautiful re- 
gion of America. 

As the characters of the Zaiiberflote passed safely 
through the trial of fire and the desperate ordeal of 
water, so, through the terror of volcanic fires and the 



THE RANGE. 5 

cliilling empire of ice, has the great Sierra come into the 
present age of tranquil grandeur. 

Five distinct periods divide the history of the range. 
First, the slow gathering of marine sediment within the 
early ocean, during which incalculable ages were con- 
sumed. 

Second, in the early Jurassic period this level sea-floor 
came suddenly to be lifted into the air and crumpled in 
folds, through whose yawning fissures and ruptured axes 
outpoured wide zones of granite. Third, the volcanic age 
of fire and steam. Fourth, the glacial period, when the 
Sierras were one broad field of snow, with huge dragons 
of ice crawling down its slopes, and wearing their armor 
into the rocks. Fifth, the present condition, which the 
following chapters will describe, albeit in a desultory and 
inadequate manner. 

From latitude 35° to latitude 39° 30' the Sierra lifts a 
continuous chain, the profile culminating in several groups 
of peaks separated by deep depressed curves or sharp 
notches, the summits varying from eight to fifteen thou- 
sand feet ; seven to twelve thousand being the common 
range of passes. JSTear its southern extremity, in San 
Bernardino County, the range is cleft to the base with 
magnificent gateways opening through into the desert. 
From Walker's Pass for two hundred miles northward 
the sky line is more uniformly elevated; the passes 
averaging nine thousand feet high, the actual summit a 
chain of peaks from thirteen to fifteen thousand feet. 
This serrated snow and granite outline of the Sierra 
Nevada, projected against the cold clear blue, is the blade 
of white teeth which suggested its Spanish name. 

Northward still the range gradually sinks ; high peaks 
covered with perpetual snow are rarer and rarer. Its 
summit rolls on in broken forest-covered ridojes, now and 



b MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEERA NEVADA. 

then overlooked by a solitary pile of metamorphic or ir- 
ruptive rock. At length, in ISTorthern California, where 
it breaks down in a compressed medley of ridges, and 
open, level expanses of plain, the axis is maintained by a 
line of extinct volcanoes standing above the lowland in 
isolated positions. The most lofty of these. Mount Shasta, 
is a cone of lava fourteen thousand four hundred and 
forty feet high, its broad base girdled with noble forests, 
which give way at eight thousand feet to a cap of glaciers 
and snow. 

Beyond this to the northward the extension of the 
range is quite difficult to definitely assign, for, geologically 
speaking, the Sierra Nevada system occupies a broad area 
in Oregon, consisting of several prominent mountain 
groups, while in a physical sense the chain ceases with 
Shasta ; the Cascades, which are the apparent topograph- 
ical continuation, being a tertiary structure formed chiefly 
of lavas which have been outpoured long subsequent to 
the main upheaval of the Sierra. 

It is not easy to point out the actual southern limit 
either, because where the mountain mass descends into 
the Colorado desert it comes in contact with a number of 
lesser groups of hills, which ramify in many directions, 
all losing themselves beneath the tertiary and quartenary 
beds of the desert. 

For four hundred miles the Sierras are a definite ridge, 
broad and hioh, and having the form of a sea-wave. But- 
tresses of sombre -hued rock, jutting at intervals from a 
steep wall, form the abrupt eastern slopes ; irregular for- 
ests, in scattered gTOwth, huddle together near the snow. 
The lower declivities are barren spurs, sinking into the 
sterile flats of the Great Basin. 

Long ridges of comparatively gentle outline characterize 
the western side, but this sloping table is scored from 



THE RANGE. 7 

summit to base by a system of parallel transverse canons, 
distant from one another often less tlian twenty-five miles. 
They are ordinarily two or three thousand feet deej), fall- 
ing at times in sheer, smooth-fronted cliffs, again in sweep- 
ing curves like the hull of a ship, again in rugged V-shaped 
gorges, or with irregular, hilly flanks opening at last 
through gateways of low, rounded foot-hills out upon the 
horizontal plain of the San Joaquin and Sacramento. 

Every canon carries a river, derived from constant melt- 
ing of the perpetual snow, which threads its way down 
the mountain, — a feeble type of those vast ice-streams 
and torrents that formerly discharged the summit accu- 
mulation of ice and snow while carving the canons out 
from solid rock. Nowhere on the continent of America is 
there more positive evidence of the cutting power of rapid 
streams than in these very canons. Although much is 
due to this cause, the most impressive passages of the 
Sierra valleys are actual ruptures of the rock ; either the 
engulfment of masses of great size, as Professor Whitney 
supposes in explanation of the peculiar form of the Yo- 
semite, or a splitting asunder in yawning cracks. From 
the summits down half the distance to the plains, the 
canons are also carved out in. broad, round curves by gla- 
cial action. The summit gorges themselves are altogether 
the result of frost and ice. Here, even yet, may be studied 
the mode of blocking out mountain peaks; the cracks 
riven by unequal contraction and expansion of the rock ; 
the slow leverage of ice, the storm, the avalanche. 

The western descent, facing a moisture -laden, aerial 
current from the Pacific, condenses on its higher por- 
tions a great amount of water, which has piled upon the 
summits in the form of snow, and is absorbed upon the 
upper plateau by an exuberant growth of forest. This 
prevalent wind, which during most undisturbed periods 



8 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

blows continuously from the ocean, strikes first upon the 
western slope of the Coast Eange, and there discharges, 
both as fog and rain, a very gTeat sum of moisture ; but, 
being ever reinforced, it blows over their crest, and, hur- 
rying eastward, strikes the Sierras at about four thousand 
feet above sea-level. Below this line the foot-hills are 
oppressed by an habitual dryness, which produces a rusty 
olive tone throughout nearly all the large conspicuous 
vegetation, scorches the red soil, and, during the long 
summer, overlays the whole region with a cloud of dust. 

Dull and monotonous in color, there are, however, cer- 
tain elements of picturesqueness in this lower zone. Its 
oak-clad hills wander out into the great plain like coast 
promontories, enclosing yellow, or in spring-time green, 
bays of prairie. The hill forms are rounded, or stretch in 
long longitudinal ridges, broken across by the river canons. 
Above this zone of red earth, softly modelled undulations, 
and dull, grayish groves, with a chain of mining towns, 
dotted ranches and vineyards, rise the swelling middle 
heights of the Sierras, a broad billowy plateau cut by 
sharp sudden canons, and sweeping up, with its dark, 
superb growth of coniferous forest to the feet of the 
summit peaks. 

For a breadth of forty miles, all along the chain, is 
spread this continuous belt of pines. From Walker's Pass 
to Sitka one may ride through an unbroken forest, and 
will find its character and aspect vary constantly in strict 
accordance with the laws of altitude and moisture, each 
of the several species of coniferous trees taking its posi- 
tion with an almost mathematical precision. Where low 
gaps in the Coast Eange give free access to the western 
wind, there the forest sweeps downward and encamps upon 
the foot-hills, and, continuing northward, it advances 
toward the coast, securing for itself over this whole dis- 



THE RANGE. 9 

tance about the same physical conditions ; so that a tree 
which finds itself at home on the shore of Puget's Sound, 
in the latitude of Middle California has climbed the 
Sierras to a height of six thousand feet, finding there its 
normal requirements of damp, cool air. As if to econo- 
mize the whole surface of the Sierra, the forest is mainly- 
made up of twelve species of coni ferae, each having its 
own definitely circumscribed limits of temperature, and 
yet being able successively to occupy the whole middle 
Sierra up to the foot of the perpetual snow. The average 
range in altitude of each species is about twenty-five hun- 
dred feet, so that you pass imperceptibly from the zone 
of one species into that of the next. Frequently three 
or four are commingled, their varied habit, characteristic 
foliage, and richly colored trunks uniting to make the 
most stately of forests. 

In the centre of the coniferous belt is assembled the 
most remarkable family of trees. Those which approach 
the perpetual snow are imperfect, gnarled, storm-bent; 
full of character and suggestion, but lacking the symmetry, 
the rich, living green, and the great size of their lower 
neighbors. In the other extreme of the pine-belt, grow- 
ing side by side with foot-hill oaks, is an equally imper- 
fect species, which, although attaining a very great size, 
still has the air of an abnormal tree. The conditions of 
drought on the one hand, and rigorous storms on the 
other, injure and blast alike, while the more verdant 
centre, furnishing the finest conditions, produces a forest 
whose profusion and grandeur fiU. the traveller with the 
liveliest admiration. 

Toward the south the growth of the forest is more open 
and grove-like, the individual trees becoming proportion- 
ally larger and reaching their highest development. 
!N"orthward its density increases, ,to the injury of indi- 
1* 



10 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

vidual pines, until the branches finally interlock, and at 
last on the shores of British Columbia the trunks are so 
densely assembled that a dead tree is held in its upright 
position by the arms of its fellows. 

At the one extremity are magnificent purple shafts 
ornamented with an exquisitely delicate drapery of pale 
golden and dark blue green; at the other the slender 
spars stand crowded together like the fringe of masts 
girdhng a prosperous port. The one is a great continuous 
grove, on whose sunny openings are innumerable brilliant 
parterres ; the other is a dismal thicket, a sort of gigantic 
canebrake, void of beauty, dark, impenetrable, save by 
the avenues of streams, where one may float for days be- 
tween sombre walls of forest. From one to the other of 
these extremes is an imperceptible transition ; only in the 
passage of hundreds of miles does the forest seem to 
thicken northward, or the majesty of the single trees ap- 
pear to be impaired by their struggle for room. 

Near the centre is the perfection of forest. At the 
south are the finest specimen trees, at the north the 
densest accvimulations of timber. In riding throughout 
this whole region and watching the same species from the 
glorious ideal life of the south gradually dwarfed toward 
the north, until it becomes a mere wand ; or in climbing 
from the scattered drought-scourged pines of the foot-hills 
up through the zone of finest vegetation to those summit 
crags, where, struggling against the power of tempest and 
frost, only a few of the bravest trees succeed in clinging 
to the rocks *and to life, — one sees with novel effect the 
inexorable sway which climatic conditions hold over the 
kingdom of trees. 

Looking down from the summit, the forest is a closely 
woven vesture, which has fallen over the body of the 
range, clinging closely to its form, sinking into the deep 



THE RANGE. 11 

canons, covering the hill-tops with even velvety folds, 
and only lost here and there where a bold mass of rock 
gives it no foothold, or where around the margin of the 
mountain lakes bits of alpine meadow lie op>en to the 
sun. 

Along its upper limit the forest zone grows thin and 
irregular ; black shafts of alpine pines and firs clustering 
on sheltered slopes, or climbing in disordered processions 
up broken and rocky faces. Higher, the last gnarled 
forms are passed, and beyond stretches the rank of silent, 
white peaks, a region of rock and ice lifted above the 
limit of life. 

In the north, domes and cones of volcanic formation 
are the summit, but for about three hundred miles in the 
south it is a succession of sharp granite aiguilles and 
crags. Prevalent among the granitic forms are singularly 
perfect conoidal domes, whose symmetrical figures, were 
it not for their immense size, would impress one as hav- 
ing an artificial finish. 

The alpine gorges are usually wide and open, leading 
into amphitheatres, whose walls are either rock or drifts 
of never-melting snow. The sculpture of the summit is 
very evidently glacial. Beside the ordinary phenomena 
of polished rocks and moraines, the larger general forms 
are clearl}^ the work of frost and ice ; and although this 
ice-period is only feebly represented to-day, yet the fre- 
quent avalanches of winter and freshly scored mountain 
flanks are constant suggestions of the past. 

Strikingly contrasted are the two countries bordering 
the Sierra on either side. Along the western base is the 
plain of California, an elliptical basin four hundred and 
fifty miles long by sixty-five broad; level, fertile, well 
watered, half tropically warmed; checkered with farms 
of grain, ranches of cattle, orchard, and vineyard, and 



12 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

homes of commonplace opulence, towns of bustling thrift. 
Eivers flow over it, bordered by lines of oaks which seem 
characterless or gone to sleep, when compared with the 
vitahty, the spring, and attitude of the same species liigher 
up on the foot-hills. It is a region of great industrial 
future, within a narrow range, but quite without charms 
for the student of science. It has a certain impressive 
breadth when seen from some overlooking eminence, or 
when in early spring its brilliant carpet of flowers lies as 
a foreground over which the dark pine-land and white 
crest of the Sierra loom indistinctly. 

From the Mexican frontier up into Oregon, a strip of 
actual desert lies under the east slope of the great chain, 
and stretches eastward sometimes as far as flve hundred 
miles, varied by successions of bare v/hite ground, effer- 
vescing under the hot sun with alkaline salts, plains 
covered by the low asliy-hued sage-plant, high, barren, 
rocky ranges, which are folds of metamorphic rocks, and 
piled-up lavas of bright red or yellow colors ; all over- 
arched by a sky which is at one time of a hot metallic 
brilliancy, and again the tenderest of evanescent purple 
or pearl. 

Utterly opposed are the two aspects of the Sierras from 
these east and west approaches. I remember liow stern 
and strong the chain looked to me when I first saw it 
from the Colorado desert. 

It was in early May, 1866. My companion, Mr. James 
T. Gardner, and I got into the saddle on the bank of the 
Colorado Eiver, and headed westward over the road from 
La Paz to San Bernardino. My mount was a tough, mag- 
nanimous sort of mule, who at all times did his very best ; 
that of my friend, an animal still hardier, but altogether 
wanting in moral attributes. He developed a singular 
antipathy for my mule, and utterly refused to march within 



THE RANGE. 13 

a quarter of a mile of me ; so that over a wearying route 
of three hundred miles we were obliged to travel just be- 
yond the reach of a shout. Hour after hour, plodding 
along at a dog-trot, we pursued our solitary way without 
the spice of companionship, and altogether deprived of 
the melodramatic satisfaction of loneliness. 

Far ahead of us a white line traced across the barren 
plain marked our road. It seemed to lead to nowhere, 
except onward over more and more arid reaches of desert. 
Eolling hills of crude color and low gloomy contour rose 
above the general level. Here and there the eye was ar- 
rested by a towering crag, or an elevated, rocky mountain 
group, whose naked sides sank down into the desert, un- 
relieved by the shade of a solitary tree. The whole aspect 
of nature was dull in color, and gloomy with an all-per- 
vading silence of death. Although the summer liad not 
fairly opened, a torrid sun beat down with cruel severity, 
blinding the eye with its brilliance, and inducing a pain- 
ful, slow fever. The very plants, scorched to a crisp, were 
ready, at the first blast of a sirocco, to be whirled away 
and ground to dust. Certain bare zones lay swept clean 
of the last dry stems across our path, marking the track 
of whirlwinds. Water was only found at intervals of 
sixty or seventy miles, and, when reached, was more of 
an aggravation than a pleasure, — bitter, turbid, and 
scarce ; we rode for it all day, and berated it all night, 
only to leave it at sunrise with a secret fear that we 
might fare worse next time. 

About noon on the third day of our march, having 
reached the borders of the Chabazon Valley, we emerged 
from a rough, rocky gateway in the mountains, and I 
paused while my companion made up his quarter of a 
mile, that we might hold council and determine our 
course, for the water question was becoming serious ; 



14 MOIINTAIXEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

springs which looked cool and seductive on our maps 
proving to be dried up and obsolete upon the gi^ound. 

A fresh mule and a lively man get along, to be sure, 
well enough ; but after all it is at best with perfunctory- 
tolerance on both sidefe, a sort of diplomatic interchange of 
argument, the man suggesting with bridle, or mildly ad- 
monishing with spurs ; but when the high contracting 
parties get tired, the entente cordiale goes to pieces, and 
actual hostilities open, in which I never knew a man to 
come out the better. 

I had noticed a shambling uncertainty during the last 
half-hour's trot, and those invariable indicators, " John's " 
long, furry ears, either lopped diagonally down on one 
side, or lay back with ill omen upon his neck. 

Gardner reached me in a few minutes, and we dis- 
mounted to rest the tired mules, and to scan the landscape 
before us. We were on the margin of a great basin whose 
gently shelving rim sank from our feet to a perfectly level 
plain, which stretched southward as far as the eye could 
reach, bounded by a dim, level horizon, like the sea, but 
walled in to the west, at a distance of about forty miles, 
by the high frowning wall of the Sierras. This plain was 
a level floor, as white as marble, and into it the rocky 
spurs from our own mountain range descended, like prom- 
ontories into the sea. Wide, deeply indented white 
bays wound in and out among the foot-hills, and, traced 
upon the barren slopes of this rocky coast, was marked, 
at a considerable elevation above the plain, the shore-line 
of an ancient sea, — a white stain defininof its former mar- 
gin as clearly as if the water had but just receded. On 
the dim, distant base of the Sierras the same primeval 
beach could be seen. This water-mark, the level wliite 
valley, and the utter absence upon its surface of any 
vegetation, gave a strange and weird aspect to the country, 



THE EANGE. 15 

as if a vast tide had but just ebbed, and the brilliant 
scorching sun had hurriedly dried up its last traces of 
moisture. 

In the indistinct glare of the southern horizon, it needed 
but slight aid from the imagination to see a lifting and 
tumbling of billows, as if the old tide were coming ; but 
they were only shudderings of heat. As we sat there 
surveying this unusual scene, the white expanse became 
suddenly transformed into a placid blue sea, along whose 
rippling shores were the white blocks of roofs, groups of 
spire-crowned villages, and cool stretches of green grove. 
A soft, vapory atmosphere hung over this sea ; shadows, 
purple and blue, floated slowly across it, producing the 
most enchanting effect of light and color. The dreamy 
richness of the tropics, the serene sapphire sky of the 
desert, and the cool, purple distance of mountains, were 
grouped as by miracle. It was as if Nature were about 
to repay us an hundred-fold for the lie she had given the 
topographers and their maps. 

In a moment the illusion vanished. It was gone, 
leaving the white desert unrelieved by a shadow ; a blaze 
of white light falling full on the plain ; the sun-struck air 
reeling in whirlwind columns, white with the dust of the 
desert, up, up, and vanishing into the sky. Waves of 
heat rolled like billows across the valley, the old shores 
became indistinct, the whole lowland unreal Shades of 
misty blue crossed over it and disappeared. Lakes with 
ragged shores gleamed out, reflecting the sky, and in a 
moment disappeared. 

The bewildering effect of- this natural magic, and per- 
haps the feverish thirst, produced the impression of a 
dream, which might have taken fatal possession of us, 
but for the importunate braying of Gardner's mule, whose 
piteous discords (for he made three noises at once) ban- 



16 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ished all hallucination, and brought us gently back from 
the mysterious spectacle to the practical question of 
water. We had but one canteen of that precious elixir 
left ; the elixir in this case being composed of one part 
pure water, one part sand, one part alum, one part sal- 
eratus, with liberal traces of Colorado mud, representing 
a very disgusting taste, and very great range of geological 
formations. 

To search for the mountain springs laid down upon our 
maps was probably to find them dry, and afforded us lit- 
tle more inducement than to chase the mirages. The 
only well-known water was at an oasis somewhere on 
the margin of the Chabazon, and should, if the infor- 
mation was correct, have been in sight from our resting- 
place. 

We eagerly scanned the distance, but were unable, 
among the phantom lakes and the ever-changing illusions 
of the desert, to fix upon any probable point. Indian 
trails led out in all directions, and our only clew to the 
right path was far in the northwest, where, looming 
against the sky, stood two conspicuous mountain piles 
lifted above the general wall of the Sierra, their bases 
rooted in the desert, and their precipitous fronts rising 
boldly on each side of an open gateway. The two sum- 
mits, liigh above the magical stratum of desert air, were 
sharply defined and singularly distinct in all the details 
of rock-form and snow-field. From their position we 
knew them to be walls of the San Gorgonio Pass, and 
through this gateway lay our road. 

After brief deliberation we chose what seemed to be 
the most beaten road leading in that direction, and I 
mounted my mule and started, leaving my friend 
patiently seated in his saddle waiting for the afflatus 
of his mule to take effect. Thus we rode doAvn into the 



THE RANGE. 17 

desert, and hour after hour travelled silently on, straining 
our eyes forward to a spot of green which we hoped might 
mark our oasis. 

So incredulous had I become, that I prided myself upon 
having penetrated the flimsy disguise of an unusually de- 
ceptive mirage, and philosophized, to a considerable ex- 
tent, upon the superiority of my reason over the instinct 
of the mule, whose quickened pace and nervous manner 
showed him to be, as I thought, a dupe. 

Whenever there comes to be a clearly defined mental 
issue between man and mule, the stubbornness of the 
latter is the expression of an adamantine moral resolve, 
founded in eternal right. The man is invariably wrong. 
Thus on this occasion, as at a thousand other times, I was 
obliged to own up worsted, and I drummed for a while 
with Spanish spurs upon the ribs of my conqueror ; that 
being my habitual mode of covering my retreat. 

It was the oasis, and not the mirage. John lifted up 
his voice, now many days hushed, and gave out spasmodic 
gusts of baritone, which were as dry and harsh as if he 
had drunk mirages only. 

The heart of Gardner's mule relented. Of his owti ac- 
cord he galloped up to my side, and, for the first time to- 
gether, we rode forward to the margin of the oasis. Under 
the palms we hastily threw off our saddles and allowed 
the parched brutes to drink their fill. We lay down in 
the grass, drank, bathed our faces, and played in the 
water like children. We picketed our mules knee-deep 
in the freshest of grass, and, unpacking our saddle-bags, 
sent up a smoke to heaven, and achieved that most pre- 
cious solace of the desert traveller, a pot of tea. 

By and by we plunged into the pool, which was per- 
haps thirty feet long, and deep enough to give us a pleas- 
ant swim. The w^ater being ahnost blood-warm, we 



18 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

absorbed it in every pore, dilated like sponges, and came 
out refreshed. 

It is well worth having one's juices broiled out by a 
desert sun just to experience the renewal of life from a 
mild parboil. That About's " Man with the Broken Ear," 
under this same aqueous renovation, was ready to fall in 
love with his granddaughter, no longer appears to me 
odd. Our oasis spread out its disk of delicate green, 
sharply defined upon the enamel-like desert which 
stretched away for leagues, simple, unbroken, pathetic. 
Near the eastern edge of this garden, whose whole surface 
covered hardly more than an acre, rose two palms, inter- 
locking their cool, dark foliage over the pool of pure 
water. A low, deserted cabin with wide, overhanging flat 
roof, which had long ago been thatched with palm-leaves, 
stood close by the trees. 

With its isolation, its strange warm fountain, its charai- 
ing vegetation varied with grasses, trailing water-plants, 
bright parterres in which were minute flowers of turquoise 
blue, pale gold, mauve, and rose, and its two graceful 
palms, this oasis evoked a strange sentiment. I have 
never felt such a sense of absolute and remote seclusion ; 
the hot, trackless plain and distant groups of mountain 
shut it away from all the w^orld. Its humid and fragrant 
air hung over us in delicious contrast with the oven- 
breath through which we had ridden. Weary little birds 
alighted, panting, and drank and drank again, without 
showing tlie least fear of us. Wild doves fluttering down 
bathed in the pool and fed about among our mules. 

After straining over one hundred and fifty miles of 
silent desert, hearing no sound but the shoes of our mules 
grating upon hot sand, after the white glare, and that 
fever-thirst which comes from drinking alkali-water, it 
was a deep pleasure to lie under the palms and look up 



THE RANGE. 19 

at their slow-moving green fans, and hear in those shaded 
recesses the mild, sweet twittering of our traveller-friends, 
the birds, who stayed, like ourselves, overcome with the 
languor of perfect repose. 

Declining rapidly toward the west, the sun warned us 
to renew our journey. Several hours' rest and frequent 
deep draughts of water, added to the feast of succulent 
grass, filled out and rejuvenated our saddle-animals. John 
Avas far less an anatomical specimen than when I unsad- 
dled him, and Gardner's mule came up to be bridled with 
so mollified a demeanor that it occurred to us as just pos- 
sible he might forget his trick of lagging behind; but 
with the old tenacity of purpose he planted his forefeet, 
and waited till I was well out on the desert. 

As I rode, I w^atched the western prospect. Completely 
bounding the basin in that direction, rose the gigantic wall 
of the Sierra, its serrated line sharply profiled against 
the evening sky. This dark barrier became more and 
more shadowed, so that the old shore line and the low- 
land, where mountain and plain joined, were lost. The 
desert melted in the distance into the shadowed masses 
of the Sierra, which, looming higher and higher, seemed 
to rise as the sun went down. Scattered snow-fields 
shone along its crest ; each peak and notch, every column 
of rock and detail of outline, w^ere black and sharp. 

On either side of the San Gorgonio stood its two guar- 
dian peaks, San Bernardino and San Jacinto, capped with 
rosy snow, and the pass itself, warm with western light, 
opened hopefully before us. For a moment the sun rested 
upon the Sierra crest, and then, slowly sinking, suffered 
eclipse by its ragged black profile. Through the slow 
hours of darkening twilight a strange ashy gloom over- 
spread the desert. The forms of the distant mountain 
chains beliind us, and the old shore line upon the Sierra 



20 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

base, stared at us with a strange weird distinctness. At 
last all was gray and vague, except the black silhouette of 
the Sierras cut upon a band of golden heaven. 

We at length reached their foot and, turning northward, 
rode parallel with the base toward the San Gorgonio. In 
the moonless night huge rocky buttresses of the range 
loomed before us, their feet plunging into the pale desert 
floor. High upon their fronts, perhaps five hundred feet 
above us, was dimly traceable the wdiite line of ancient 
shore. Over drifted hills of sand and hard alkaline clay 
we rode along the bottom of that primitive sea. Between 
the spurs, deep mountain alcoves, stretching back into 
the heart of the range, opened gTand and shadowy; far 
at their head, over crests of ridge and peak, loomed the 
planet Jupiter. A long, wearisome ride of forty hours 
brought us to the open San Gorgonio Pass. Abeady 
scattered beds of flowers tinted the austere face of the 
desert ; tufts of pale grass grew about the stones, and tall 
stems of yucca bore up their magnificent bunches of blu- 
ish flowers. Upon all the heights overhanging the road 
gnarled struggling cedars grasp the rock, and stretch 
themselves with frantic effort to catch a breath of the 
fresh Pacific vapor. It is instructive to observe the dif- 
ference between those which lean out into the vitalizing 
wind of the pass, and the fated few whose position exposes 
them to the dry air of the desert. Vigor, soundness, nerve 
to stand on the edge of sheer walls, flexibility, sap, fulness 
of green foliage, are in the one ; a shroud of dull olive- 
leaves scantily cover the thin, straggling, bayonet-like 
boughs of the others : they are rigid, shrunken, split to 
the heart, pitiful. We were glad to forget them as we 
turned a last buttress and ascended the gentle acclivity 
of the pass. 

Before us opened a broad gateway six or seven miles 



THE RANGE. 21 

from wall to wall, in which a mere swell of green land 
rises to divide the desert and Pacific slopes. Flanking 
the pass along its northern side stands Mount San Ber- 
nardino, its granite framework crowded up above the beds 
of more recent rock about its base, bearing aloft tattered 
fragments of pine forest, the summit piercing through a 
marbling of perpetual snow up to the height of ten thou- 
sand feet. Fronting it on the opposite wall rises its com- 
peer, San Jacinto, a dark crag of lava, whose flanks are 
cracked, riven, and waterworn into innumerable ravines, 
each catching a share of the drainage from the snow-cap, 
and glistening with a hundred small waterfalls. 

Numerous brooks unite to form two rivers, one running 
down the green slope among ranches and gardens into the 
blooming valley of San Bernardino, the other pouring 
eastward, shrinking as it flows out upon the hot sands, 
till, in a few miles, the unslakable desert has drunk it 
dry. 

There are but few points in America where such ex- 
tremes of physical condition meet. What contrasts, Avhat 
opposed sentiments, the two views awakened! Spread 
out below us lay the desert, stark and glaring, its rigid 
hill-chains lying in disordered grouping, in attitudes of the 
dead. The bare hills are cut out with sharp gorges, and 
over their stone skeletons scanty earth clings in folds, 
like shrunken flesh ; they are emaciated corses of once 
noble ranges now lifeless, outstretched as in a long sleep. 
Ghastly colors define them from the ashen plain in which 
their feet are buried. Far in the south were a procession 
of whirlwind columns slowly moving across the desert in 
spectral dimness. A white light beat down, dispelling 
the last trace of shadow, and above hung the burnished 
shield of hard, pitiless sky. 

Sinking to the tvcst from our feet the gentle golden- 



22 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

green glacis sloped away, flanked by rolling hills covered 
with a fresh vernal carpet of grass, and relieved by scat- 
tered groves of dark oak-trees. Upon the distant valley 
were checkered fields of grass and grain just tinged with 
the first ripening yellow. The bounding Coast Eanges 
lay in the cool shadow of a bank of mist which drifted in 
from the Pacific, covering their heights. Flocks of bright 
clouds floated across the sky, whose blue was palpitating 
with light, and seemed to rise with infinite perspective. 
Tranquillity, abundance, the slow, beautiful unfolding of 
plant life, dark shadowed spots to rest our tired eyes 
upon, the shade of giant oaks to lie down under, wliile 
listening to brooks, contralto larks, and the soft distant 
lowing of cattle. 

I have given the outlines of aspect along our ride across 
the Chabazon, omitting many amusing incidents and some 
genre pictures of rare interest among the Kaweah Indians, 
as I wished simply to illustrate the relations of the Sierra 
with the country bordering its east base, — the barrier 
looming above a desert. 

In Nevada and California, farther north, this wall rises 
more grandly, but its face rests upon a modified form of 
desert plains of less extent than the Colorado, and usually 
covered with sage-plants and other brushy coiivpositce of 
equally pitiful ajDpearance. Large lakes of complicated 
sahne waters are dotted under the Sierra shadow, the 
ancient terraces built upon foot-hill and outlying volcanic 
ranges indicating their former expa.nsion into inland seas ; 
and farther north still, where plains extend east of Mount 
Shasta, level sheets of lava form the country, and open 
black, rocky channels, for the numerous branches of the 
Sacramento and Klamath. 

Approaching the Sierras anywhere from the west, you 
will perceive a totally different topographical and climatic 



THE RANGE. 23 

condition. From the Coast Eange peaks especially one 
obtains an extended and impressive prospect. I had 
fallen behind the party one May evening of our march 
across Pacheco's Pass, partly because some wind-bent 
oaks trailing almost horizontally over the wild-oat sur- 
face of the hills, and marking, as a living record, the 
prevalent west wind, had arrested me and called out com- 
pass and note-book ; and because there had fallen to my 
lot an incorrigibly deliberate mustang to whom I had 
abandoned myseK to be carried along at his own pace, 
comforted withal that I should get in too late to have any 
hand in the cooking of supper. We reached the crest, the 
mustang coming to a conspicuous and unwarrantable halt ; 
I yielded, however, and sat still in the saddle, looking out 
to the east. 

Brown foot-hills, purple over their lower slopes with 
" fil-a-ree " blossoms, descended steeply to the plain of 
California, a great, inland, prairie sea, extending for five 
hundred miles, mountain-locked, between the Sierras and 
coast hills, and now a broad arabesque surface of colors. 
Miles of orange-colored flowers, cloudings of green and 
white, reaches of violet which looked like the shadow of 
a passing cloud, wandering in natural patterns over and 
through each other, sunny and intense along near our 
range, fading in the distance into pale bluish-pearl tones, 
and divided by long, dimly seen rivers, whose margins 
w^ere edged by belts of bright emerald green. Beyond rose 
three hundred miles of Sierra half lost in light and cloud 
and mist, the summit in places sharply seen against a pale, 
beryl sky, and again buried in warm, rolling clouds. It 
was a mass of strong light, soft, fathomless shadows, and 
dark regions of forest. However, the three belts upon its 
front were tolerably clear. Dusky foot-hills rose over the 
plain with a coppery gold tone, suggesting the line of 



24 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

mining towns planted in its rusty ravines, — a suggestion 
I was glad to repel, and look higher into that cool, solemn 
realm where the pines stand, green-roofed, in infinite 
colonnade. Lifted above the bustling industry of the 
plains and the melodramatic mining theatre of the foot- 
hills, it has a grand, silent life of its own, refreshing to 
contemplate even from a hundred miles away. 

"While I looked the sun descended ; shadows climbed 
the Sierras, casting a gloom over foot-hill and pine, until 
at last only the snow summits, reflecting the evening 
light, glowed like red lamps along the mountain wall 
for hundreds of miles. The rest of the Sierra became 
invisible. The snow burned for a moment in the violet 
sky, and at last went out. 



11. 

THEOUGH THE TOEEST. 

YiSALiA is the name of a small town embowered in 
oaks upon the Tulare Plain in Middle California, where 
we made our camp one May evening of 1864. 

Professor Whitney, our chief, the State Geologist, had 
sent us out for a summer's campaign in the High Sierras, 
under the lead of Professor William H. Brewer, who was 
more sceptical than I as to the result of the mission. 

Several times during the previous winter Mr. Hoffman 
and I, while on duty at the Mariposa gold-mines, had 
climbed to the top of Mount Bullion, and gained, in those 
clear January days, a distinct view of the High Sierra, 
ranging from the Mount Lyell group many miles south 
to a vast pile of white peaks, which, from our estimate, 
should lie near the heads of the King's and Kaweah 
rivers. Of their great height I was fully persuaded; 
and Professor Whitney, on the strength of these few 
observations, commissioned us to explore and survey 
the new Alps. 

We numbered iive in camp, — Professor Brewer ; Mr. 
Charles F. Hoffman, chief topographer; Mr. James T. 
Gardner, assistant surveyor ; myself, assistant geologist ; 
and our man-of-all-work, to whom science already owes 
its debts. 

When we got together our outfit of mules and equip- 
ments of all kinds. Brewer was going to re-engage, as gen- 
eral aid, a certain Dane, Jan Hoesch, who, besides being a 

2 



26 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

faultless mule-packer, was a rapid and successful financier, 
having twice, when the field-purse was low and remit- 
tances delayed, enriched us by what he called " dealing 
bottom stock " in his little evening games with the honest 
miners. Not ungrateful for that, I, however, detested 
the fellow with great cordiality. 

" If I don't take him, will you be responsible for pack- 
ing mules and for daily bread ? " said Brewer to me the 
morning of our departure from Oakland. " I will." 
" Then we '11 take your man Cotter ; only, when the 
pack-saddles roll under the mules' bellies, I shall light 
my pipe and go botanizing. Sale ? " 

So my friend, Eichard Cotter, came into the service, 
and the accomplished but filthy Jan opened a poker and 
rum shop on one of the San Francisco .wharves, where he 
still mixes drinks and puts up jobs of "bottom stock." 
Secretly I longed for him as we came down the Pacheco 
Pass, the packs having loosened with provoking frequency. 
The animals of our small exploring party were upon a 
footing of easy social equality with us. All were excellent 
except mine. The choice of Hobson (whom I take to 
have been the youngest member of some company) falling 
naturally to me, I came to be possessed of the only hope- 
less animal in the band. Old Slum, a dignified roan 
mustang of a certain age, with the decorum of years and 
a conspicuous economy of force retained not a few of the 
affectations of youth, such as snorting theatrically, and 
shying, though with absolute safety to the rider, Profes- 
sor Brewer. Hoffman's mount was a young half-breed, 
full of fire and gentleness. The mare Bess, my friend 
Gardner's pet, was a light bay creature, as full of spring 
and perception as her sex and species may be. A rare 
mule, Cate, carried Cotter. Nell and Jim, two old geo- 
logical mules, branded with Mexican hieroglyphics from 
head to tail, were bearers of the loads. 



THROUGH .THE FOREST. 27 

My Buckskin was incorrigibly bad. To begin with, 
his anatomy was desultory and incoherent, the maximum 
of physical effort bringing about a slow, shambling gait 
quite unendurable. He was further cursed with a brain 
wanting the elements of logic, as evinced by such non 
sequiturs as shying insanely at wisps of hay, and stam- 
peding beyond control when I tried to tie him to a load 
of grain. My sole amusement with Buckskin grew out 
of a psychological peculiarity of his, namely, the unusual 
slowness with which waves of sensation were propelled 
inward toward the brain from remote parts of his periph- 
ery. A dig of the spurs administered in the flank passed 
unnoticed for a period of time varying from twelve to 
thirteen seconds, till the protoplasm of the brain received 
the percussive wave, then, with a suddenness which I 
never wholly got over, he would dash into a trot, nearly 
tripping himself up with his own astonishment. 

A stroke of good fortune completed our outfit and my 
happiness by bringing to Visalia a Spaniard who was 
under some manner of financial cloud. His horse was 
offered for sale, and quickly bought for me by Professor 
Brewer. We named him Kaweah, after the river and its 
Indian tribe. He was young, strong, fleet, elegant, a pat- 
tern of fine modelling in every part of his bay body and 
fine black legs ; every way good, only fearfully wild, with 
a blaze of quick electric light in his dark eye. 

Shortly after sunrise one fresh morning we made a 
point of putting the packs on very securely, and, getting 
into our saddles, rode out toward the Sierras. 

The group of farms surrounding Yisalia is gathered 
within a belt through which several natural, and many 
more artificial, channels of the Kaweah flow. Groves of 
large, dark-foliaged oaks follow this irrigated zone ; the 
roads, nearly always in shadow, are flanked by small 



28 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ranch-houses, fenced in with rank jungles of weeds and 
rows of decrepit pickets. 

There is about these fresh ruins, these specimens of 
modem decay, an air of social decomposition not pleasant 
to perceive. Freshly built houses, still untinted by time, 
left in rickety disorder, half-finished windows, gates 
broken down or unhinged, and a kind of sullen neglect 
staring everywhere. What more can I say of the people 
than tliat they are chiefly Southern immigrants who sub- 
sist upon pork ? 

Eare exceptions of comfort and thrift shine out some- 
times, with neat dooryards, well-repaired dwellings, and 
civilized-looking children. In these I never saw the 
mother of the family sitting cross-legged, smoking a corn- 
cob pipe, nor the father loafing about with a fiddle or 
shot-gun. 

Our backs were now turned to this farm-belt, the road 
leading us out upon the open plain in our first full 
sight of the Sierras. 

Grand and cool swelled up the forest ; sharp and rugged 
rose the wave of white peaks, their vast fields of snow 
rolling over the summit in broad shining masses. 

Sunshine, exuberant vegetation, brilliant plant life, oc- 
cupied our attention hour after hour until the middle 
of the second day. At last, after climbing a long, weary 
ascent, we rode out of the dazzling light of the foot- 
hills into a region of dense woodland, the road winding 
through avenues of pines so tall that the late evening 
light only came down to us in scattered rays. Under the 
deep shade of these trees we found an air pure and grate- 
fully cool. Passing from the glare of the open country 
into the dusky forest, one seems to enter a door, and ride 
mto a vast covered hall. The whole sensation is of being 
roofed and enclosed. You are never tired of gazing down 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 29 

long vistas, where, in stately groups, stand tall shafts of 
pine. Columns they are, each with its own characteristic 
tintmg and finish, yet all standing together with the air 
of relationship and harmony. Feathery branches, trimmed 
with living green, wave through the upper air, opening 
broken glimpses of the far blue, and catching on their 
polished surfaces reflections of the sun. Broad streams 
of light pour in, gilding purple trunks and falling in bright 
pathways along an undulating floor. Here and there are 
wide open spaces around which the trees group them- 
selves in majestic ranks. 

Our eyes often ranged upward, the long shafts lead- 
ing the vision up to green, lighted spires, and on to the 
clouds. All that is dark and cool and grave in color, 
the beauty of blue umbrageous distance, all the sudden 
brilliance of strong local lights tinted upon gTeen boughs 
or red and fluted shafts, surround us in ever-chanainof 
combination as we ride along these winding roadways of 
the Sierra. 

We had marched a few hours over high, rolling 
wooded ridges, when in the late afternoon we reached the 
brow of an eminence and began to descend. Looking 
over the tops of the trees beneath us we saw a mountain 
basin fifteen hundred feet deep surrounded by a rim of 
pine-covered hills. An even unbroken wood covered 
these sweeping slopes down to the very bottom, and in 
the midst, open to the sun, lay a circular green meadow, 
about a mile in diameter. 

As we descended, side wood-tracks, marked by the 
deep ruts of timber wagons, joined our road on either 
side, and in the course of an hour we reached the basin 
and saw the distant roofs of Thomas's Saw-Mill Eanch. 
We crossed the level disk of meadow, fording a clear, 
cold mountain stream, flowing, as the best brooks do, 



'60 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

over clean white granite sand, and near the northern mar- 
gin of the valley, upon a slight eminence, in the edge of 
a magnificent forest, pitched our camp. 

The hills to the westward already cast down a sombre 
shadow, which fell over the eastern hills and across the 
meadow, dividing the basin half in golden and half in 
azure green. The tall young grass was living with pur- 
ple and white flowers. This exquisite carpet sweeps up 
over the bases of the hills in green undulations, and strays 
far into the forest in irregular fields. A little brooklet 
passed close by our camp and flowed down the smooth 
green glacis which led from our little eminence to the 
meadow. Above us towered pines two hundred and fifty 
feet high, their straight fluted trunks smooth and without 
a branch for a hundred feet. Above that, and on, to the 
very tops, the green branches stretched out and interwove, 
until they spread a broad leafy canopy from column to 
column. 

Professor Brewer determined to make this camp a home 
for the week, during which we were to explore and study 
all about the neighborhood. We were on a great granite 
spur sixty miles from east to west by twenty miles wide, 
which lies between the Kaweah and King's Eiver canons. 
Eising in bold sweeps from the plain, this ridge joins 
the Sierra summit in the midst of a high group. Expe- 
rience had taught us that the canons are impassable by 
animals for any great distance ; so the plan of campaign 
was to find) a way up over the rocky crest of the spur as 
far as mules could go. 

In tlie little excursions from this camp, which were 
made usually on horseback, we became acquainted with 
the forest, and got a good knowledge of the topography 
of a considerable region. On the heights above King's 
Canon are some singularly fine assemblies of trees. Cot- 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 31 

ter and I had ridden all one morning northeast from 
camp under the shadowy roof of forest, catching but 
occasional glimpses out over the plateau, until at last we 
emerged upon the bare surface of a ridge of granite, and 
came to the brink of a sharp precipice. Eocky crags 
lifted just east of us. The hour devoted to climbing them 
proved well spent. 

A single little family of alpine firs growing in a niche 
in the granite surface, and partly sheltered by a rock, 
made the only shadow, and just shielded us from the 
intense light as we lay down by their roots. North and 
south, as far as the eye could reach, heaved the broad 
green waves of plateau, swelling and merging through 
endless modulation of slope and form. 

Conspicuous upon the horizon, about due east of us, was 
a tall pyramidal mass of granite, trimmed with buttresses 
which radiated down from its crest, each one ornamented 
with fantastic spires of rock. Between the buttresses 
lay stripes of snow, banding the pale granite peak from 
crown to base. Upon the north side it fell off, grandly 
precipitous, into the deep upper caiion of King's Elver. 
This gorge, after uniting a number of immense rocky 
amphitheatres, is carved deeply into the granite two 
and three thousand feet. In a slightly curved line from 
the summit it cuts westward through the plateau, its 
walls, for the most part, descending in sharp bare 
slopes, or lines of ragged debris, the resting-place of pro- 
cessions of pines. We ourselves were upon the brink of 
the south wall ; three thousand feet below us lay the 
valley, a narrow, winding ribbon of green, in wdiich, here 
and there, gleamed still reaches of the river. Wherever 
the bottom widened to a quarter or half a mile, green 
meadows and extensive groves occupied the level region. 
Upon every niche and crevice of the walls, up and down 



32 MOUNTAINEERmG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

sweeping curves of easier descent, were grouped black 
companies of trees. 

The behavior of the forest is observed most interestingly 
from these elevated points above the general face of the 
table-land. All over the gentle undulations of the more 
level country sweeps an unbroken covering of trees. 
Eeaching the edge of the canon precipices, they stand 
out in bold groups upon the brink, and climb all over 
the more ragged and broken surfaces of granite. Only 
the most smooth and abrupt precipices are bare. Here 
and there a little shelf of a foot or two in width, cracked 
into the face of the bluff, gives foothold to a family of 
pines, who twist their roots into its crevices and thrive. 
With no soil from which the roots may drink up moisture 
and absorb the slowly dissolved mineral particles, they 
live by breathing alone, moist vapors from the river be- 
low and the elements of the atmosphere affording them 
the substance of life. 

I beheve no one can study from an elevated lookout 
the length and depth of one of these great Sierra canons 
without asking himself some profound geological ques- 
tions. Your eyes range along one or the otlier waU. 
The average descent is immensely steep. Here and there 
side ravines break down the rim in deep lateral gorges. 
Again, the wall advances in sharp, salient precipices, ris- 
ing two or three thousand feet, sheer and naked, with all 
the air of a recent fracture. At times the two walls 
approach each other, standing in perpendicular gateways. 
Toward the summits the canon grows, perhaps, a little 
broader, and more and more prominent lateral ravines 
open into it, until at last it receives the snow drainage 
of the summit, which descends through broad, rounded 
amphitheatres, separated from each other by sharp, castel- 
lated snow-clad ridges. ^^ ^ 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 33 

Looking down the course of the river vertical pre- 
cipices are seen to be less and less frequent, the walls 
inclining to each other more and more gently, until they 
roll out on the north and south in round wooded ridges. 
Solid, massive granite forms the material throughout its 
whole length. If you study the topography upon the 
plateaus above one of these canons, you will see that the 
ridges upon one side are reproduced in the other, as if the 
outlines of wavy table-land topography had been deter- 
mined before the great canon was made. 

It is not easy to propose a solution for this peculiar 
structure. I think, however, it is safe to say that actual 
rending asunder of tlie mountain mass determined the 
main outlines. Upon no other theory can we account 
for those blank walls. Where, in the upper course of the 
canon, they descend in a smooth, ship-like curve, and the 
rocks bear upon their curved sides the marldngs and stri- 
ations of glaciers, it is easy to see that those terrible ice- 
engines gradually modified their form; and toward the 
foot-hills the forces of aqueous erosion are clearly indi- 
cated in the rounded forms and broad undulations of the 
two banks. 

Looking back from our isolated crag in the direction 
of our morning's ride, we saiv the green hills break down 
into the basin of Thomas's Mill, but the disk of meadow 
lay too deep to be seen. Forests, dense and unbroken, 
grew to the base of our cliff. The southern sunlight 
reflected from its polished foliage gave to this whole sea 
of spiry tops a peculiar golden green, through which we 
looked down among giant red and purple trunks upon 
beds of bright mountain flowers. As the afternoon 
lengthened, the summit rank of peaks glowed warmer 
and warmer under inclined rays. The granite fluslied 
with rosy brightness between the fields of glittering 
2* c 



34 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

golden snow. A mild, pearly haziness came gradually 
to obscure the ordinary cold-blue sky, and, settling into 
canon depths and among the vast open corridors of the 
summit, veiled the savage sharpness of their details. 

I lay several hours sketcliing the outlines of the sum- 
mit, studying out the systems of alpine drainage, and 
getting acquainted with the long chain of peaks, that I 
might afterward know them from other points of view. 
I became convinced from the great a^^parent elevation 
and the wide fields of snow that we had not formerly 
deceived ourselves as to their great height. Warned at 
length by the deepening shadow in the King's Canon, by 
the heightened glow suffusing the peaks, and the deep 
purple tone of the level expanse of forest, all forerunners 
of twilight, we quitted our eyry, crept carefully down 
over half-balanced blocks of debris to the horses, and, 
mounting, were soon headed homeward, in what seemed, 
by contrast, to be almost a nocturnal darkness. 

Wherever the gTound opened level before us we gave 
our horses the rein, and went at a free gallop through the 
forest ; the animals realized that they were going home, 
and pressed forward with the greatest spirit. A good-sized 
log across our route seemed to be an object of special 
amusement to Kaweah, who seized the bits in his teeth 
and, dancing up, crouched, and cleared it with a mighty 
bound, in a manner that was indeed inspiring, yet left 
one with the impression that once waS' enough of that 
sort of thing. Fearing some manner of hostilities with 
him, I did my very best to quiet Kaweah, and by the end 
of an hour had gotten him down to a sensible, serious 
w^alk. I noticed that he insisted upon following his 
tracks of the morning's march, and was not contented 
unless I let him go on the old side of every tree. Thus I 
became so thoroughly convinced of his faculty to follow the 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 35 

morning's trail tliat I yielded all control of him, giving 
myself' up to tlie enjoyment of the dimly lighted wood. 

As the sun at last set, the shadow deej^ened into an 
impressive gloom ; mighty trunks, rising into tliat dark 
region of interlocking boughs, only vaguely defined them- 
selves against the twilight sky. We could no longer see 
our tracks, and the confused rolling topography looked 
alike whichever way we turned. Kaweah strode on in his 
confident way, and I was at last confirmed as to his 
sagacity by passing one after another the objects we had 
noted in the morning. Thus for a couple of hours we 
rode in the darkness. At length the rising moon poured 
down through broken tents of foliage its uncertain silvery 
light, which had the effect of deepening all the shadows, 
and lighting up in the strangest manner little local points. 
Here and there ahead of us the lighted trees rose 
like pillars of an ancient temple. The forest, which an 
hour before overpowered us with a sense of its dark 
enclosure, opened on in distant avenues as far as the eye 
could reach. As we rode through denser or more open 
passages the moon sailed into clear violet sky, or was 
obscured again by the sharply traced crests of the pines. 
Eavines, dark and unfathomable, yawned before us, their 
flanks haK in shadow, half in weird uncertain light. 
Blocks of white granite gleamed here and there in con- 
trast with the general depth of shade. At last, descend- 
ing a hill, there shone before us a red light ; the horses 
plunged forward at a gallop, and in a moment we were 
in camp. After this ride we supped, relishing our moun- 
tain fare, and then lay down upon blankets before a camp- 
fire for the mountaineer's short evening. One keeps 
awake under stimulus of the sparkling, frosty air for 
a while, and then turns in for the night, sleeping till 
daybreak with a light sound sleep. 



36 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

The cliarm of tins forest life, in spite of its scientific 
interest, and the constant succession of exquisite, liiglily 
colored scenes, would string one's feelings up to a high 
though monotonous key, were it not for the half- droll, 
half-pathetic genre picturesqueness which the Digger 
Indians introduce. Upon every stream and on all tlie 
finer camp-grounds throughout the whole forest are found 
these families of Indians who migrate up here during the 
hot weather, fishing, hunting, gathering pine -nuts, and 
lying off with that peculiar, bummerish ease, which, as- 
sociated with natural mock dignity, throws about them a 
singular, and not unfrequently deep interest. 

I never forget certain bright June sunrises when I have 
seen the Indian paterfamilias gather together his little 
tribe and address them in the heroic style concerning the 
vital importance of the grasshopper crop, and the rever- 
ence due to the Giver of manzanita berries. You come 
upon them as you travel the trails, proud-stepping 
" braves " leading the way, unhampered and free, fol- 
lowed by troops of submissive squaws loaded down with 
immense packages and baskets. Their death and burial 
customs too have elements of weird romantic interest. 

I remember one mornino: when I was awakened before 
dawn by wild unearthly shrieks ringing through the 
forest and coming back again in plaintive echoes from 
the hills all about. Beyond description wild, these wails 
of violent grief followed each other with regular cadence, 
dying away in long despairing sobs. With a marvellous 
regularity they recurred, never varying the simple refrain. 
My curiosity was aroused so far as to get me out of my 
blankets, and, after a hurried bath in an icy stream, I 
joined my mountaineer acquaintance, Jerry, who was en 
route to the rancheria, " to see," as he expressed it, " them 
tar-heads howl." It seems my friend Buck, the Indian 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 37 

chief, had the night before lost his wife, Sally the Old, 
and the shouts came from professional mourners hired by 
her family to prepare the body and do up the necessary 
amount of grief. Old widows and superannuated wives 
who have outlived other forms of usefulness gladly enter 
this singular profession. They cut their hair short, and 
with each new death plaster on a fresh cap of pitch and 
ashes, daub the face with spots of tar, and, in general, 
array themselves as funeral experts. 

The rancheria was astir when we arrived. It was a 
mere group of half a dozen smoky hovels, built of pine 
bark propped upon cones of poles, and arranged in a 
semicircle within the edge of the forest, fronting on a 
brook and meadow. Jerry and I leaned our backs against 
a large tree, and watched the group. 

Buck's shanty was deserted, the body of his wife 
lying outside upon a blanket, being prepared by two of 
these funeral hags. Buck himseK was quietly stuffing 
his stomach with a breakfast of venison and acorns, 
which were handed him at brief intervals by several 
sympathizing squaws. 

Turning to Jerry with a countenance of stolid serious- 
ness, he laconically remarked, " My woman she die ! 
Very bad. To-night, sundown" (pointing to the sun), 
"she burn up." Meanwhile tKe tar-heads rolled Sally 
the Old over and over, all the while alternately howling 
the same dismal phrase. Indian relatives and friends, 
having the general air of animated rag-bags, arrived occa- 
sionally, and sat down in silence at a fire a little removed 
from the other Diggers, never once saluting them. 

As we walked back to our camp, I remarked on the 
stolid, cruel expression of Buck's face, but Jerry, to 
my surprise, bade me not judge too hastily. He went on 
to explain that Indians have just as deep and tender 



38 MOUNTAINEEEING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

attachments, just as much good sense, and, to wind up 
with, "as much human into 'em, as we edicated white 
folks." 

His own squaw had instilled this into Jerry's naturally 
sentimental and credulous heart, so I refrained from ex- 
pressing my convictions concerning Indians, which, I own, 
were formerly tinged with the most sanguinary Caucasian 
prejudice. 

Jerry came for me by appointment just before sunset, 
and we walked leisurely across the meadow, and under 
lengthening pine shadows, to the rancheria. No one was 
storing. Buck and the two vicarious mourners sat in 
his lodge door uttering low, half-audible groans. In the 
opening before the line of huts a low pile of dry logs 
had been carefully laid, upon which, outstretched, and 
wrapped in a red blanket, lay the dead form of Sally 
the Old, her face covered in careful folds. Upon her 
heart were a grass-woven water-bowl and her last pap- 
poose basket. 

Just as the sun sank to the horizon, one tar-head 
stepped out in front of the funeral pile, lifted up both 
hands, and gazed steadily and silently at the sun. She 
might have been five minutes in this statuesque position, 
her face full of strange, half-animal intensity of expres- 
sion, her eyes glittering, the whole hard figure glowing 
with a deep bronze reflection. Suddenly she sprang back 
with the old wild shriek, seized a brand from one of the 
camp-fires, and lighted the funeral heap, when all the 
Indians came out, and grouped themselves in little knots 
around it. SaUy the Old's children clung about an 
old mummy of a squaw, who squatted upon the ground 
and rocked her body to and fro, making a low cry as of 
an animal in pain. All the Indians looked serious ; a 
group, who Jerry said were relatives, seemed stupefied 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 39 

with grief. Upon a few faces falling tears glistened in 
the light of the fire, which now shot up red tongues high 
in the air, lighting up with weird distinctness every 
feature of the whole group. Flames slowly lapped over, 
consuming the blanket, and caught the willow x^appoose 
basket. When Buck saw this, the tears streamed from 
his eyes ; he waved his hands eloquently, looking up to 
heaven, and uttered heart-broken sobs. The pappoose 
basket crackled for a moment, flashed into a blaze, and 
was gone. The two old women yelled their sharp death- 
cry, dancing, posturing, gesticulating toward the fire, and 
in slow measured chorus all the Indians intoned in pa- 
thetic measure, " Himalaya ! Himalaya ! " looking first at 
the mound of fire and then out upon the fading sunset. 

It was all indescribably strange : monarch pines stand- 
ing in solemn ranks far back into the dusky heart of 
the forest, glowing and brightening with pulsating re- 
flections of firelight ; the ring of Indians, crouching, 
standing fixed like graven images, or swaying mechani- 
cally to and fro ; each tattered scarlet and white rag of 
their utterly squalid garments, every expression of bar- 
baric grief or dull stolidity, were brought strongly out 
by the red flaming fire. 

Buck watched with wet eyes that slow-consuming 
fire burn to ashes the body of his wife of many years, the 
mother of his group of poor frightened children. Not a 
stoical savage, but a despairing husband, stood before us. 
I felt him to be human. The body at last sank into a 
bed of flames which shot up higher than ever with foun- 
tains of sparks, and sucked together, hiding the remains 
forever from view. At this Buck sprang to the front 
and threw himself at the fire ; but the two old women 
seized each a hand and dragged him back to his children, 
when he fell into a fit of stupor. 



40 MOUNTAINEEEING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

As we walked home Jerry was quick to ask, " Did n't 
I tell you Injuns lias feelings inside of 'em ? " I answered 
promptly that I was convinced ; and long after, as I lay 
awake through many night-hours listening to that shrill 
death-wail, I felt as if any policy toward the Indians 
based upon the assumption of their being brutes or devils 
was nothing short of a blot on this Christian century. 

My sleep was light, and sunrise found me dressed, still 
listening, as under a kind of spell, to the mourners, who, 
though evidently exhausted, at brief intervals uttered the 
cry. Alone, and filled with serious reflections, I strolled 
over to the rancheria, finding every one there up and about 
his morning duties. 

The tar-heads, withdrawn some distance into the forest, 
sat leaning against a stump, chatting and grinning to- 
gether, now and then screeching by turns. 

I asked Eevenue Stamp, a good-natured, middle-aged 
Indian, where Buck was. He pointed to his hut, and 
replied, with an affable smile, " He whiskey drunk." " And 
who," I inquired, " is that fat girl with him ? " " Last 
night he take her; new squaw," was the answer. I 
could hardly believe, but it was the actual truth ; and I 
went back to camp an enlightened but disillusioned man. 
I left that day, and never had an opportunity to " free my 
mind " to Jerry. Since then I guardedly avoid all dis- 
cussion of the " Indian question." When interrogated, I 
dodge, or protest ignorance ; when pressed, I have been 
known to turn the subject ; or, if driven to the wall, I 
usually confess my opinion that the Quakers will have to 
work a great reformation in the Indian before he is really 
fit to be exterminated. 

The mill-people and Indians told us of a wonderful 
group of big trees {Sequoia gigantea), and about one par- 
ticular tree of unequalled size. We found them easily, 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 41 

after a ride of a few miles in a northerly direction from 
our camp, upon a wide, flat-topped spur, where they 
grew, as is their habit elsewhere, in company with sev- 
eral other coniferous species, all grouped socially together, 
heightening each other's beauty by contrasts of form and 
color. 

In a rather open glade, where the ground was for the 
most part green with herbage, and conspicuously starred 
with upland flowers, stood the largest shaft we observed. 
A fire had formerly burned off a small segment of its base, 
not enough, however, to injure the symmetrical appear- 
ance. It was a slowly tapering, regularly round column 
of about forty feet in diameter at the base, and rising two 
hundred and seventy-four feet, adorned with a few huge 
branches, which start horizontally from the trunk, but 
quickly turn down and spray out. The bark, thick but 
not rough, is scored up and down at considerable intervals 
with deep, smooth grooves, and is of brightest cinnamon 
color mottled in purple and yellow. 

That which impresses one most after its vast bulk and 
grand, pillar-like stateliness, is the thin and inconspicuous 
foliage, which feathers out delicately on the boughs like 
a mere mist of pale apple-green. It would seem nothing 
when compared with the immense volume of tree for 
which it must do the ordinary respirative duty; but 
doubtless the bark performs a large share of this, its 
papery lamination and porous structure fitting it emi- 
nently for that purpose. 

. Near this " King of the Mountains " grew three other 
trees ; one a sugar-pine (Pinus Lanibertiana) of about 
eight feet in diameter, and hardly less than three hun- 
dred feet high (although we did not measure it, estimat- 
ing simply by comparison of its rise above the Sequoia, 
whose height was quite accurately determmed). For a 



42 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

hundred and fifty feet the pine was brancliless, and as 
round as if turned, delicate bluish-purple in hue, and 
marked with a network of scorings. The branches, in 
nearly level poise, grew long and slenderly out from the 
shaft, well covered with dark yellow-green needles. The 
two remaining trees were firs {Picea grandis), which 
sprung from a common root, dividing slightly, as they 
rose, a mass of feathery branches, whose load of polished 
blue-green foliage, for the most part, hid the dark wood- 
brown trunk. Grace, exquisite spire-like taj)er boughs, 
whose plumes of green float lightly upon the air, elas- 
ticity, and symmetry, are its characteristics. 

In all directions this family continue grouping them- 
selves always with attractive originality. There is some- 
thing memorable in the harmonious yet positive colors of 
this sort of forest. First, the foliage and trunk of each 
separate tree contrasts finely, — cinnamon and golden 
apple-green in the Sequoia, dark purple and yellowish- 
green for the pine, deep wood-color and bluish-green of 
fir. 

The sky, w^hich at this elevation of six thousand feet 
is deep pure blue and often cloudless, is seen through 
the tracery of boughs and tree-tops, which cast downward 
fine and filmy shadows across the glowing trunks. Alto- 
gether, it is a wonderful setting for the Sequoia. The two 
firs, judging by many of equal size whose age I have 
studied, were about three hundred years old ; the pine, 
still hale and vigorous, not less than five hundred ; and for 
the " King of the Mountains " we cannot assign a proba- 
ble age of less than two thousand years. 

A mountain, a fossil from deepest geological horizon, a 
ruin of human art, carry us back into the perspective of 
centuries with a force that has become, perhaps, a little 
conventional. No imperishableness of mountain-peak 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 43 

or of fragment of human work, broken pillar or sand-worn 
image half lifted over pathetic desert, — none of these 
link the past and to-day with anything hke the power of 
these monuments of living antiquity, trees that began 
to grow before the Christian era, and, full of hale vitality 
and green old age, still bid fair to grow broad and high 
for centuries to come. Who shall predict the limits of 
this unexampled hfe ? There is nothing which indicates 
suffering or degeneracy in the Sequoia as a species. I 
find pathological hints that several other far younger 
species in the same forest are gradually giving up their 
struggle for existence. That singular species Pinus Set- 
hiniana appears to me to suffer death-pains from foot-hill 
extremes of temperature and dryness, and notably from 
ravenous parasites of the mistletoe type. At the other 
extreme the Pinus flexilis has about half given up the 
fight against cold and storms. Its young are dwarfed 
or huddled in thickets, with such mode of growth 
that they may never make trees of full stature; wdiile 
higher up, standing among bare rocks and fields of ice, 
far above all living trees, are the stark white skeletons 
of noble dead specimens, their blanched forms rigid 
and defiant, preserved from decay by a marvellous hard- 
ness of fibre, and only wasted by the cutting of storm- 
driven crystals of snow. Still the Sequoia maintains 
perfect health. 

It is, then, the vast respiring power, the atmosphere, 
the bland, regular climate, which give such long life, and 
not any richness or abundance of food received from the 
soil. 

If one loves to gather the material for travellers' stories, 
he may find here and there a hoUow fallen trunk through 
whose heart he may ride for many feet without bowing 
the head. But if he love the tree for its own grand 



44 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

nature, lie may lie in silence upon the soft forest floor, in 
shadow or sunny warmth, if he please, and spend many 
days in wonder, gazing upon majestic shafts, following 
their gold and purple flutings from broad, firmly planted 
base up and on through the few huge branches, and among 
the pale clouds of filmy green traced in open network 
upon the deep blue of the sky. 

Groups of this ancient race grow along the middle 
heights of the Sierra for almost two hundred miles, mark- 
ing a line of groves through the forest of lesser trees, still 
retaining their power of reproduction, ripening cones with 
regularity, whose seed germinates, springs up, and grows 
with apparently as great vital power as the descendants 
of younger conifers. Nor are these their only remarkable 
characteristics. They possess hardly any roots at all. 
Several in each grove have been blown down, and lie 
slowly decomposing. They are found usually to have 
rested upon the gi^ound with a few short pedestal-like 
feet penetrating the earth for a little way. 

Too soon for my pleasure, the time came when we 
must turn our backs upon these stately groves and push 
up towards the snow. 

Our route lay eastward, between the King's and Kaweah 
rivers, rising as we marched ; the vegetation, as well as 
the barometer, accurately measuring the change. 

We reached our camp on the Big Meadow plateau on 
the 22d of June, and that night the thermometer fell to 
20° above zero. This cold was followed by a chilly, 
overcast morning, and about ten o'clock an old-fash- 
ioned snow-storm set in. Wind howled fiercely through 
the trees, coming down from the mountains in ter- 
ribly powerful gusts. The green flower-covered meadow 
was soon buried under snow; and we explorers, who 
had no tent, hid ourselves imder piles of brush, and on 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 45 

the lee side of hospitable stones. Our scaat supply 
of blankets was a poor defence against such inclem- 
ency; so we crawled out and made a huge camp-fire, 
around which we sat Tor the rest of the day. During 
the afternoon we were visited. A couple of hunters, with 
their rifles over their shoulders, seeing the smoke of our 
camp-fire, followed it through the woods and joined our 
circle. They were typical mountaineers, — outcasts from 
society, discontented with the world, comforting them- 
selves in the solitude of nature by the occasional excite- 
ment of a bear-fight. One was a half-breed Cherokee, 
rather over six feet high, powerfully built, and pictu- 
resquely dressed in buckskin breeches and green jacket ; a 
sort of Trovatore hat completed his costume, and gave him 
an animated appearance. The other was unmistakably a 
Pike-Countian, who had dangled into a pair of butternut 
jeans. His greasy flannel shirt was pinned together with 
thorns in lieu of buttons, and his hat fastened back in 
the same way, having lost its stiffness by continual wet- 
ting. The Cherokee had a long manly stride, and the 
Pike a rickety sort of shuffle. His anatomy was bad, his 
physical condition worse, and I think he added to that a 
sort of pride in his own awkwardness. Seeming to have 
a principle of suspension somewhere about his shoulders, 
which maintained his head at about the right elevation 
above the ground, he kept up a good rate in walking 
without apparently making an effort. His body swayed 
with a peculiar corkscrew motion, and his long Missis- 
sippi rifle waved to and fro through the air. 

We all noticed the utter contrast between them as 
these two men approached our fire. The hunter's taci- 
turnity is a well-known role, but they had evidently 
lived so long an isolated life that they were too glad of 
any company to play it unfailingly ; so it was they who 



46 MOUNTADsEERIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

opened the conversation. We found that they were now 
camped only a half-mile from ns, were hunting for deer- 
skins, and had already accumulated a very large number. 
They offered us plenty of venison* and were greatly inter- 
ested in our proposed journeys into the high mountains. 
From them we learned that they had themselves pene- 
trated farther than any others, and had only given up the 
exploration after wandering fruitlessly among the canons 
for a month. They told us that not even Indians had 
crossed the Sierras to the east, and that if we did succeed 
in reaching this summit we would certainly be the first. 
We learned from tliem, also, that a mile to the nortliward 
was a great herd of cattle in charge of a party of Mex- 
icans. Fleeing before the continued drought of the 
plains, all the cattle-men of California drove the remains 
of their starved herds either to the coast or to the High 
Sieri^as, and grazed upon the summer pastures, descending 
in the autumn, and living upon the dry foot-hill grasses, 
until, under the influence of winter rains, the plains again 
clothe themselves with pasturage. The following morn- 
ing, having received a present of two deer from the hunt- 
ers, we packed our animals and started eastward, passing, 
after a few minutes' ride, the encampment of the Spaniards. 
About four thousand cattle roamed over the plateau, and 
were only looked after once or twice a week. The four 
Spaniards divided their time between drinking coffee and 
playing cards. They were engaged in the latter amuse- 
ment when we passed them ; and although we halted and 
tried to get some information, they only answered us in 
monosyllables, and continued their game. To the eastward 
the plateau rose toward the high mountains in immense 
granite steps. We rode pleasantly through the forest 
over these level tables, and climbed with difficulty the 
rugged rock-strewn fronts, each successive step bringing 



THROUGH THE FOREST. 47 

US nearer the mountains, and giving us a far-reaching 
view. Here and there the gTanite rose through the forest 
in broad, smooth domes ; and many times we were obliged 
to climb these rocky slopes at the peril of our animals' 
lives. After several days of marching and countermarch- 
ing, we gave up the attempt to push farther in a southeast 
direction, and turned north, toward the great canon of 
King's Eiver, which we hoped might lead us up to the 
Snow Group. Eeaching the brink of this gorge, we 
observed, about half-way down the slope, and standing 
at equal levels on both flanks, singular embankments 
— shelves a thousand feet in width — built at a height 
of fifteen hundred feet above the valley bottom, their 
smooth, evenly graded summits rising higher and 
higher to the eastward on the canon-wall until they 
joined the snow. They were evidently the lateral mo- 
raines of a vast extinct glacier, and that opposite us 
seemed to offer an easy ride into the heart of the moun- 
tains. With great difficulty we descended the long slope, 
through chaparral and forest, reaching, at length, the 
level, smooth glacier bottom. Here, threading its way 
through alternate groves and meadows, was the King's 
Elver, — a stream not over thirty feet in width, but rushing 
with all the force of a torrent. Its icy temperature was 
very refreshing after our weary climb down the wall. By 
a series of long zigzags we succeeded in leading our ani- 
mals up the flank to the top of the north moraine, and 
here we found ourselves upon a forest-covered causeway, 
almost as smooth as a railroad embankment. Its fluted 
crest enclosed three separate pathways, each a hun- 
dred feet wide, divided from each other by roughly laid 
trains of rocks, showing it evidently to be a compound 
moraine. As we ascended toward the mountains, the 
causeway was more a.nd more isolated from the cliff. 



48 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

until tlie depression between them widened to half a 
mile, and to at least five hundred feet deep. Through- 
out nearly a whole day we rode comfortably along at 
a gentle grade, reaching at evening the region of the 
snow, where, among innumerable huge granite blocks, 
we threaded our way in search of a camp-ground. The 
mountain amphitheatre which gave rise to the King's 
Eiver opened to the east, a broad valley, into which we 
at length climbed ; and, among scattered groves of alpine 
pines, and on patches of meadow, rode eastward till 
twilight, watching the high pyramidal peak which lay 
directly at the head of the gorge. By sunset we had 
gone as far as we could take the animals, and, in full 
view of our goal, camped for the niglit. The form of the 
mountain at the liead of our ravine was purely Gothic. 

A thousand upspringing spires and pinnacles pierce 
the sky in every direction, the cliffs and mountain- 
ridges are everyivhere ornamented with countless needle- 
like turrets. Crowning the wall to the south of our camp 
were series of these jagged forms standing out against the 
sky like a procession of colossal statues. Whichever way 
we turned, we were met by some extraordinary fulness 
of detail. Every mass seemed to have the highest possi- 
ble ornamental finish. Along the lower flanks of the 
walls, tall straight pines, the last of the forest, were 
relieved against the cliffs, and the same slender forms, 
although carved in granite, surmounted every ridge and 
peak. 

Through this wide zone of forest we had now passed, 
and from its perpetual shadow had come out among the 
few black groves of fir into a brilliant alpine sunshine. 
The light, although surprisingly lively, was of a purity 
and refinement quite different from the strong glare of 
the plains. 



Ill 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 

Morning dawned briglitly upon our bivouac among a 
cluster of dark firs in the mountain corridor opened by 
an ancient glacier of ling's Eiver into the heart of the 
Sierras. It dawned a trifle sooner than we could have 
wished, but Professor Brewer and Hoffman had break- 
fasted before sunrise, and were off with barometer and 
theodolite upon their shoulders, purposing to ascend our 
amphitheatre to its head and climb a great pyramidal 
peak which swelled up against the eastern sky, closing 
the view in that direction. 

We who remained in camp spent the day in overhaul- 
ing campaign materials and preparing for a grand assault 
upon the summits. For a couple of hours we could 
descry our friends through the field-glasses, their minute 
black forms moving slowly on among piles of giant 
debris ; now and then lost, again coming into view, and 
at last disappearing altogether. 

It was twilight of evening and almost eight o'clock 
when they came back to camp. Brewer leading the way, 
Hoffman following; and as they sat down by our fire 
without uttering a word, we read upon their faces ter- 
rible fatigue. 

So we hastened to give them supper of coffee and soup, 
bread and venison, which resulted, after a time, in our 
getting in return the story of the day. 

3 D 



50 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

For eight whole hours they had worked up over granite 
and snow, mounting ridge after ridge, till the summit was 
made about two o'clock. 

These snowy crests bounding our view at the eastward 
we had all along taken to be the summits of the Sierra, 
and Brewer had supposed himself to be climbing a dom- 
inant peak, from which he might look eastward over 
Owen's Valley and out upon leagues of desert. Instead 
of this a vast wall of mountains, lifted still higher than 
his peak, rose beyond a tremendous canon which lay like 
a trough between the two parallel ranks of peaks. Hoff- 
man showed us on his sketch-book the profile of this new 
range, and I instantly recognized the peaks which I had 
seen from Mariposa, whose great white pile had led me 
to believe them the highest pomts of California. 

For a couple of months my friends had made me the 
target of plenty of pleasant banter about my " highest 
land," which they lost faith in as we climbed from 
Thomas's Mill, — I too becoming a trifle anxious about 
it ; but now that the truth had burst upon Brewer and 
Hoffman they could not find words to describe the ter- 
ribleness and grandeur of the deep canon, nor for pictur- 
ing those huge crags towering in line at the east. Their 
peak, as indicated by the barometer, was in the region of 
thirteen thousand four hundred feet, and a level across to 
the farther range showed its crests to be at least fifteen 
hundred feet higher. They had spent hours upon the sum- 
mit scanning the eastern horizon, and ranging downward 
into the labyrinth of gulfs below, and had come at last 
with reluctance to the belief that to cross this gorge and 
ascend the eastern wall of peaks was utterly impossible. 

Brewer and Hoffman were old climbers, and their ver- 
dict of impossible oppressed me as I lay awake thinking 
of it ; but early next morning I had made up my mind, 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 61 

and, taking Cotter aside, I asked liim in an easy manner 
whether he would like to penetrate the Terra Incognita 
with me at the risk of our necks, provided Brewer should 
consent. In a frank, courageous tone he answered after 
his usual mode, " Why not ? " Stout of limb, stronger yet 
in heart, of iron endurance, and a quiet, unexcited tempera- 
ment, and, better yet, deeply devoted to me, I felt that 
Cotter was the one comrade I would choose to face death 
with, for I believed there was in his manhood no room 
for fear or shirk. 

It was a trying moment for Brewer when we found him 
and volunteered to attempt a campaign for the top of 
California, because he felt a certain fatherly responsibility 
over our youth, a natural desire that we should not de- 
posit our triturated remains in some undiscoverable hole 
among the feldspathic granites ; but, like a true disciple 
of science, this was at last over-balanced by his intense 
desire to know more of the unexplored region. He 
freely confessed that he believed the plan madness, and 
Hoffman, too, told us we might as well attempt to get on 
a cloud as to try the peak. 

As Brewer gradually yielded his consent, I saw by his 
conversation that there was a possibility of success ; so we 
spent the rest of the day in making preparations. 

Our walking-shoes were in excellent condition, the 
hobnails firm and new. We laid out a barometer, a com- 
pass, a pocket-level, a set of wet and dry thermometers, 
note-books, with bread, cooked beans, and venison enough 
to last a week, rolled them all in blankets, making two 
knapsack-shaped packs strapped firmly together with 
loops for the arms, which, by Brewer's estimate, weighed 
forty pounds apiece. 

Gardner declared he would accompany us to the sum- 
mit of the first range to look over into the guK we were 



52 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

to cross, and at last Brewer and Hoffman also concluded 
to go up with us. 

Quite too early for our profit we all betook ourselves 
to bed, vainly hoping to get a long refreshing sleep from 
which we should arise ready fpr our tramp. 

Never a man welcomed those first gray streaks in the 
east gladder than I did, unless it may be Cotter, who has 
in later years confessed that he did not go to sleep that 
night. Long before sunrise we had done our breakfast 
and were under way, Hoffman kindly bearing my pack, 
and Brewer Cotter's. 

Our way led due east up the amphitheatre and toward 
Mount Brewer, as we had named the great pyramidal 
peak. 

Awhile after leaving camp, slant sunlight streamed in 
among gilded pinnacles along the slope of Mount Brewer, 
touching here and there, in broad dashes of yellow, the 
gray walls, which rose sweeping up on either hand like 
the sides of a ship. 

Our way along the valley's middle ascended over a 
number of huge steps, rounded and abrupt, at whose 
bases were pools of transparent snow-watej edged with 
rude piles of erratic glacier blocks, scattered companies 
of alpine firs, of red bark and having cypress-like dark- 
ness of foliage, with fields of snow under sheltering cliffs, 
and bits of softest velvet meadow clouded with minute 
blue and white flowers. 

As we climbed, the gorge grew narrow and sharp, both 
sides wilder ; and the spurs which projected from them, 
nearly overhanging the middle of the valley, towered 
above us with more and more severe sculpture. We 
frequently crossed deep fields of snow, and at last reached 
the level of the highest pines, where long slopes of debris 
swept down from either cliff, meeting in the middle. 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 53 

Over and among these immense blocks, often twenty and 
thirty feet high, we were obliged to climb, hearing far be- 
low us the subterreanean gurgle of streams. 

Interlocking spurs nearly closed the gorge behind us ; 
our last view was out a granite gateway formed of two 
nearly vertical precipices, sharp-edged, jutting buttress- 
like, and plunging down into a field of angular boulders 
which fill the valley bottom. 

The eye ranged out from this open gateway overlooking 
the great King's Canon with its moraine-terraced walls, 
the domes of granite upon Big Meadows, and the undulat- 
ing stretch of forest which descends to the plain. 

The gorge turning southward, we rounded a sort of 
mountain promontory, which, closing the view behind us, 
shut us up in the bottom of a perfect basin. In front lay 
a placid lake reflecting the intense black-blue of the sky. 
Granite, stained with purple and red, sank into it upon 
one side, and a broad spotless field of snow came down to 
its margin upon the other. 

From a pile of large granite blocks, forty or fifty feet 
up above the lake margin, we could look down fully a 
hundred feet through the transparent water to where 
boulders and pebbles were strewn upon the stone bottom. 
We had now reached the base of Mount Brewer and were 
skirting its southern spurs in a wide open corridor sur- 
rounded in all directions by lofty granite crags from two 
to four thousand feet high ; above the limits of vegetation, 
rocks, lakes of deep heavenly blue, and white trackless 
snows were grouped closely about us. Two sounds, a 
sharp little cry of martens, and occasional heavy crashes 
of falling rock, saluted us. 

Climbing became exceedingly difficult, light air — for 
we had already reached twelve thousand five hundred 
feet — beginning to tell upon our lungs to such an extent 



54 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

that my friend, who had taken turns with me in carrying 
my pack, was unable to do so any longer, and I adjusted 
it to my own shoulders for the rest of the day. 

After four hours of slow laborious work we made the 
base of the debris slope which rose about a thousand feet 
to a saddle pass in the western mountain wall, that range 
upon which Mount Brewer is so prominent a point. We 
were nearly an hour in toiling up this slope over an un- 
certain footing which gave way at almost every step. At 
last, when almost at the top, we paused to take breath, 
and then all walked out upon the crest, laid off our 
packs, and sat down together upon the summit of the 
ridge, and for a few moments not. a word was spoken. 

The Sierras are here two parallel summit ranges. We 
were upon the crest of the western ridge, and looked 
down into a gulf five thousand feet deep, sinking from our 
feet in abrupt cliffs nearly or quite two thousand feet, 
whose base plunged into a broad field of snow lying steep 
and smooth for a great distance, but broken near its foot 
by craggy steps often a thousand feet high. 

Vague blue haze obscured the lost depths, hiding details, 
giving a bottomless distance out of which, like the breath 
of wind, floated up a faint tremble, vibrating upon the 
senses, yet never clearly heard. 

Eising on the other side, cliff above cliff, precipice 
piled upon precipice, rock over rock, up against sky, 
towered the most gigantic mountain-wall in America, 
culminating in a noble pile of Gothic-finished granite 
and enamel-like snow. How grand and inviting looked 
its white form, its untrodden, unknown crest, so high and 
pure in the clear strong blue ! I looked at it as one 
contemplating the purpose of his life ; and for just one 
moment I would have rather liked to dodge that purpose, 
or to have waited, or have found some excellent reason 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 



55 



why I might not go ; but aU this quickly vanished, leav- 
ing a cheerful resolve to go ahead. 

From the two opposing mountain-walls singular, thin, 
knife-blade ridges of stone jutted out, dividing the sides 
of the gulf into a series of amphitheatres, each one a 
labyrintli of ice and rock. Piercing thick beds of snow, 
sprang up knobs and straight isolated spires of rock, mere 
obelisks curiously carved by frost, their rigid, slender 
forms casting a blue, sharp shadow upon the snow. Em- 
bosomed in depressions of ice, or resting on broken ledges, 
were azure lakes, deeper in tone than the sky, which at 
this altitude, even at midday, has a violet duskiness. 

To the south, not more than eight miles, a wall of 
peaks stood across the gulf, dividing the King's, which 
flowed north at our feet, from the Kern Kiver, that flowed 
down the trough in the opposite direction. 

I did not wonder that Brewer and Hoffman pronounced 
our undertaking impossible ; but when I looked at Cotter 
there was such complete bravery in his eye that I asked 
him if he was ready to start. His old answer, " Why 
not ? " left the initiative with me ; so I told Professor 
Brewer that we would bid him good by. Our friends 
helped us on with our packs in silence, and as we shook 
hands there was not a dry eye in the party. Before he 
let go of my hand Professor Brewer asked me for my 
plan, and I had to own that I had but one, which was to 
reach the highest peak in the range. 

After looking in every direction I was obliged to con- 
fess that I saw as yet no practicable way. We bade them 
a " good by," receiving their " God bless you " in return, 
and started southward along the range to look for some 
possible cliff to descend. Brewer, Gardner, and Hoff- 
man turned north to push upward to the summit of 
Mount Brewer, and complete their observations. We 



56 MOUNT AINEEEING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

saw tliem whenever we halted, until at last, on the very 
summit, their microscopic forms were for the last time 
discernible. With very great difficulty we climbed a 
peak which surmounted our wall just to the south of the 
pass, and, looking over the eastern brink, found that the 
precipice was still sheer and unbroken. In one place, 
where the snow lay against it to the very top, we went to 
its edge and contemplated the slide. About three thou- 
sand feet of unbroken white, at a fearfully steep angle, 
lay below us. We threw a stone over and watched it 
bound until it was lost in the distance ; after fearful leaps 
we could only detect it by the flashings of snow where it 
struck, and as these were, in some instances, three hun- 
dred feet apart, w^e decided not to launch our own valuable 
bodies, and the still more precious barometer, after it. 

There seemed but one possible way to reach our goal; 
that was to make our way along the summit of the cross 
ridge which projected between the two ranges. This 
divide sprang out from our Mount Brewer wall, about 
four miles to the south of us. To reach it we must climb 
up and down over the indented edge of the Mount Brewer 
wall. In attempting to do this we had a rather lively 
time scaling a sharp granite needle, where we found our 
course completely stopped by precipices four and five 
hundred feet in heii?ht. Ahead of us the summit con- 
tinned to be broken into fantastic pinnacles, leaving us no 
hope of making our way along it ; so we sought the most 
broken part of the eastern descent, and began to climb 
down. The heavy knapsacks, beside wearing our shoul- 
ders gradually into a black-and-blue state, overbalanced 
us terribly, and kept us in constant danger of pitching 
headlong. At last, taking them off. Cotter climbed down 
until he had found a resting-place upon a cleft of rock, 
then I lowered them to him with our lasso, afterwards 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 57 

descending cautiously to his side, taking my turn in 
pioneering downward, receiving the freight of knapsacks 
by lasso as before. In this manner we consumed more 
than half the afternoon in descending a thousand feet of 
broken, precipitous slope ; and it was almost sunset when 
we found ourselves upon the fields of level snow which 
lay white and thick over the whole interior slope of 
the amphitheatre. The gorge below us seemed utterly 
impassable. At our backs the Mount Brewer wall either 
rose in sheer cliffs or in broken, rugged stairway, such as 
had off'ered us our descent. From this cruel dilemma the 
cross divide furnished the only hope, and the sole chance 
of scaling that was at its junction with the Mount Brewer 
wall. Toward this point we directed our course, march- 
ing wearily over stretches of dense frozen snow, and 
res^ions of debris, reachincr about sunset the last alcove 
of the amphitheatre, just at the foot of the Mount Brewer 
wall. It was evidently impossible for us to attempt to 
climb it that evening, and we looked about the desolate 
recesses for a sheltered camping-spot. A high granite 
w^all surrounded us upon three sides, recurring to the 
southward in long elliptical curves ; no part of the sum- 
mit being less than two thousand feet above us, the higher 
crags not unfrequently reaching three thousand feet. A 
single field of snow swept around the base of the rock, 
and covered the whole amphitheatre, except where a few 
spikes and rounded masses of granite rose through it, and 
where two frozen lakes, with their blue ice-disks, broke 
the monotonous surface. Through the white snow^-gate 
of our amphitheatre, as through a frame, we looked east- 
ward upon the summit group ; not a tree, not a vestige of 
vegetation in sight, — sky, snow, and granite the only 
elements in this wild picture. 

After searching for a shelter we at last found a granite 




58 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

crevice near the margin of one of the frozen lakes, — a 
sort of shelf just large enough for Cotter and me, — where 
we hastened to make our bed, having first filled the can- 
teen from a small stream that trickled over the ice, know- 
ing that in a few moments the rapid chill would freeze it. 
We ate our supper of cold venison and bread, and whittled 
from the sides of the wooden barometer-case shavings 
p^nough to warm water for a cup of miserably tepid tea, 
^ and then, packing our provisions and instruments away at 
the head of the shelf, rolled ourselves in our blankets and 
lay down to enjoy the view. 

After such fatiguing exercises the mind has an almost 
abnormal clearness : whether this is wholly from within, 
or due to the intensely vitalizing mountain air, I am not 
sure ; probably both contribute to the state of exaltation 
in which all alpine climbers find themselves. The solid 
granite gave me a luxurious repose, and I lay on the edge 
of our little rock niche and w^atched the strange yet bril- 
liant scene. 

All the snow of our recess lay in the shadow of the 
high granite wall to the west, but the Kern divide which 
curved around us from the southeast was in full light ; its 
broken sky-line, battlemented and adornedwith innumer- 
able rough-hewn spires and pinnacles, was a mass of 
glowing orange intensely defined against the deep violet 
sky. At the open end of our horseshoe amphitheatre, 
to the east, its floor of snow rounded over in a smooth 
brink, overhanging precipices which sank two thousand 
feet into the King's Canon. Across the gulf rose the 
whole procession of summit peaks, their lower halves 
rooted in a deep sombre shadow cast by the western wall, 
the heights bathed in a warm purple haze, in which the 
irregular marbling of snow burned with a pure crimson 
light. A few fleecy clouds, dyed fiery orange, drifted 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 59 

slowly eastward across the narrow zone of sky which 
stretched from summit to summit like a roof At times 
the sound of waterfalls, faint and mingled with echoes, 
floated up through the still air. The snow near by lay 
in cold ghastly shade, warmed here and there in strange 
flashes by light reflected downward from drifting clouds. 
The sombre waste about us ; the deep violet vault over- 
head ; those far summits, glowing with reflected rose ; 
the deep impenetrable gloom which filled the gorge, and 
slowly and with vapor-like stealth climbed the mountain 
wall extinguishing the red light, combined to produce an 
effect which may not be described ; nor can I more than 
hint at the contrast between the brilliancy of the scene 
under full light, and the cold, deathlike repose which fol- 
lowed when the wan cliffs and pallid snow were all over- 
shadowed with ghostly gray. 

A sudden chill enveloped us. Stars in a moment 
crowded through the dark heaven, flashing with a frosty 
splendor. The snow congealed, the brooks ceased to flow, 
and, under the powerful sudden leverage of frost, immense 
blocks were dislodged all along the mountain summits 
and came thundering down the slopes, booming upon the 
ice, dashing wildly upon rocks. Under the lee of our 
shelf we felt quite safe, but neither Cotter nor I could 
help being startled, and jumping just a little, as these 
missiles, weighing often many tons, struck the ledge over 
our heads and whizzed down the gorge, their stroke re- 
sounding fainter and fainter, until at last only a confused 
echo reached us. 

The thermometer at nine o'clock marked twenty de- 
grees above zero. We set the " minimum " and rolled 
ourselves together for the night. The longer I lay the 
less I liked that shelf of granite ; it grew hard in time, 
and cold also, my bones seeming to approach actual con- 



60 MOUNTAINEEEING EN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

tact with the chilled rock ; moreover, I found that even 
so vigorous a circulation as mine was not enough to warm 
up the ledge to anything like a comfortable temperature. 
A single thickness of blanket is a better mattress than 
none, but the larger crystals of orthoclase, protruding 
plentifully, punched my back and caused me to revolve on 
a horizontal axis with precision and frequency. How I 
loved Cotter ! how I hugged him and got warm, while 
our backs gradually petrified, till we whirled over and 
thawed them out together ! The slant of that bed was 
diagonal and excessive; down it w^e slid till the ice 
chilled us awake, and we crawled back and chocked our- 
selves up with bits of granite inserted under my ribs and 
shoulders. In this pleasant position we got dozing again, 
and there stole over me a most comfortable ease. The 
granite softened perceptibly. I was delightfully -warm 
and sank into an industrious slumber which lasted with 
great soundness till four, when we rose and ate our break- 
fast of frozen venison. 

,.--. The thermometer stood at two above zero ; everything 
was frozen tight except the canteen, which we had pru- 
dently kept between us all night. Stars still blazed 
brightly, and the moon, hidden from us by western cliffs, 
shone in pale reflection upon the rocky heights to the 
east, which rose, dimly white, up from the impenetrable 
shadows of the canon. Silence, — cold, ghastly dimness, in 
which loomed huge forms, — the biting frostiness of the 
air, wrought upon our feelings as we shouldered our packs 
and started with slow pace to climb toward the " divide." 
Soon, to our dismay, we found the straps had so chafed 
our shoulders that the weight gave us great pain, and 
obliged us to pad them with our handkerchiefs and 
extra socks, wliich remedy did not wholly relieve us from 
the constant wearing pain of the heavy load. 



Y 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 61 

Directing our steps southward toward a niche in the 
wall which bounded us only half a mile distant, we 
travelled over a continuous snow-field frozen so densely 
as scarcely to yield at all to our tread, at the same time 
compressing enough to make that crisp frosty sound 
which we all used to enjoy even before we knew from 
the books that it had something to do with the severe 
name of^regelation. 

As we advanced, the snow sloped more and more 
steeply up toward the crags, till by and by it became 
quite dangerous, causing us to cut steps with-C otter's 
large bowie-knife, — a slow, tedious operation, requiring 
patience of a pretty permanent kind. In this way we 
spent a quiet social hour or so. The sun had not yet 
reached us, being shut out by the high amphitheatre wall ; 
but its cheerful light reflected downward from a number 
of higher crags, filling the recess with the brightness of 
day, and putting out of existence those shadows which so 
sombrely darkened the earlier hours. To look back when 
we stopped to rest was to realize our danger, — that 
smooth swift slope of ice carrying the eye down a thou- 
sand feet to the margin of a frozen mirror of ice ; ribs and 
needles of rock piercing up through the snow, so closely 
grouped that, had we fallen, a miracle only might save 
us from being dashed. This led to rather deeper steps, 
and greater care that our burdens should be held more 
nearly over the centre of gravity, and a pleasant relief 
when we got to the top of the snow and sat down on a 
block of granite to breathe and look up in search of a way 
up the thousand-foot cliff of broken surface, among the 
lines of fracture and the galleries winding along the face. 

It would have disheartened us to gaze up the hard, 
sheer front of precipices, and search among splintered 
projections, crevices, shelves, and snow-patches for an 



62 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

inviting route, had we not "been animated by a faith 
that the mountains could not defy us. 

Choosing what looked like the least impossible way, we 
started; but, finding it unsafe to work with packs on, 
resumed the yesterday's plan, — Cotter taking the lead, 
climbing about fifty feet ahead, and hoisting up the 
knapsacks and barometer as I tied them to the end of the 
lasso. Constantly closing up in hopeless difficulty before 
us, the way opened again and again to our gymnastics, till 
we stood together upon a mere shelf, not more than two 
feet wide, which led diagonally up the smooth cliff. 
Edging along in careful steps, our backs flattened upon 
the granite, we moved slowly to a broad platform, where 
we stopped for breath. 

There was no foothold above us. Looking down over 
the course we had come, it seemed, and I really believe 
it was, an impossible descent ; for one can climb upward 
with safety where he cannot downward. To turn back was 
to give up in defeat ; and we sat at least half an hour, sug- 
gesting all possible routes to the summit, accepting none, 
and feeling disheartened. About thirty feet directly over 
our heads was another shelf, which, if we could reach, 
seemed to offer at least a temporary way upward. On its 
edge were two or three spikes of granite ; whether firmly 
connected with the cliff, or merely blocks of debris, we 
could not tell from below. I said to Cotter, I thought of 
but one possible plan : it was to lasso one of these blocks, 
and to climb, sailor -fashion, hand over hand, up the rope. 
In the lasso I had perfect confidence, for riiad seen more 
than one Spanish bull throw his whole weight against it 
without parting a strand. The shelf was so narrow that 
throwing the coil of rope was a very difficult undertaking. 
I tried three times, and Cotter spent five minutes vainly 
whirling the loop up at the granite spikes. At last I 



\ 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 



63 



made a lucky throw, and it tightened upon one of the 
smaller protuberances. I drew the noose close, and very 
gradually threw my hundred and fifty pounds upon the 
rope ; then Cotter joined me, and, for a moment, we both 
hung our united weight upon it. Whether the rock 
moved slightly or whether the lasso stretched a little 
we were unable to decide ; but the trial must be made, 
and I began to climb slowly. The smooth precipice-face 
against which my body swung offered no foothold, and 
the whole climb had therefore to be done by the arms, an 
effort requiring all one's determination. When about half- 
way up I was obliged to rest, and, curling my feet in the 
rope, managed to relieve my arms for a moment. In this 
position I could not resist the fascinating temptation of a 
survey downward. 

Straight down, nearly a thousand feet below, at the foot 
of the rocks, began the snow, whose steep, roof-like slope, 
exaggerated into an almost vertical angle, curved down in 
a long white iield, broken far away by rocks and polished, 
round lakes of ice. 

Cotter looked up cheerfully and asked how I was mak- 
ing it ; to which I answered that I had plenty of wind 
left. At that moment, when hanging between heaven 
and earth, it was a deep satisfaction to look down at the 
wild gulf of desolation beneath, and up to unknown dan- 
gers ahead, and feel my nerves cool and unshaken. 

A few pulls hand over hand brought me to the edge of 
the shelf, when, throwing an arm around the granite spike, 
I swung my body upon the shelf and lay down to rest, 
shouting to Cotter that I was all right, and that the 
prospects upward were capital. After a few moments' 
breathing I looked over the brink and directed my com- 
rade to tie the barometer to the loAver end of the lasso, 
which he did, and that precious instrument was hoisted 



64 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

to my station, and the lasso sent down twice for knap- 
sacks, after which Cotter came up the rope in his very- 
muscular way without once stopping to rest. We took 
our loads in our hands, swinging the barometer over my 
shoulder, and climbed up a shelf which led in a zigzag 
direction upward and to the south, bringing us out at last 
upon the thin blade of a ridge which connected a short 
distance above with the summit. It was formed of hug^ 
blocks, shattered, and ready, at a touch, to fall. ^ v 

So narrow and sharp was the upper slope, that we 
dared not walk, but got astride, and worked slowly along 
with our hands, pushing the knapsacks in advance, now 
and then holding our breath when loose masses rockedL--^ 
under our weight. '" i 

Once upon the summit, a grand view burst upon us.\ 
Hastening to step upon the crest of the divide, which was 
never more than ten feet wide, frequently sharpened to a 
mere blade, we looked do\vn the other side, and were 
astonished to find we had ascended the gentler slope, and 
that the rocks fell from our feet in almost vertical preci- 
pices for a thousand feet or more. A glance along the 
summit toward the highest group showed us that any 
advance in that direction was impossible, for the thin 
ridge was gashed down in notches three or four hundred 
feet deep, forming a procession of pillars, obelisks, and 
blocks piled upon each other, and looking terribly inse- 
cure. 

We then deposited our knapsacks in a safe place, and, 
finding that it was already noon, determined to rest a 
little while and take a lunch at over thirteen thousand 
feet above the sea. 

West of us stretched the Mount Brewer wall with its 
succession of smooth precipices and amphitheatre ridges. 
To the north the great gorge of the King's Kiver yawned 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 65 

down five thousand feet. To the south the valley of the 
Kern, opening in the opposite direction, was broader, less 
deep, but more filled with broken masses of granite. 
Clustered about the foot of the divide were a dozen 
alpine lakes ; the higher ones blue sheets of ice, the 
lowest completely melted. Still lower in the depths of 
the two canons we could see groups of forest trees ; 
but they were so dim and so distant as never to re- 
lieve the prevalent masses of rock and snow. Our 
divide cast its shadow for a mile down King's Canon in 
dark blue profile upon the broad sheets of sunny snow, 
from whose brightness the hard splintered cliiBPs caught 
reflections and wore an aspect of joy. Thousands of rills 
poured from the melting snow, filling the air with a musi- 
cal tinkle as of many accordant bells. The Kern Valley 
opened below us with its smooth oval outline, the work 
of extinct glaciers, whose form and extent were evident 
from worn cliff-surface and rounded wall ; snow-fields, 
relics of the former neve, hung in white tapestries around 
its ancient birthplace ; and, as far as we could see, the 
broad, corrugated valley, for a breadth of fully ten miles, 
shone with burnishings wherever its granite surface was 
not covered with lakelets or thickets of alpine vege- 
tation. 

Through a deep cut in the Mount Brewer* wall we 
gained our first view to the westward, and saw in the 
distance the wall of the South King's Canon, and the 
granite point which Cotter and I had climbed a fortnight 
■before. But for the haze we might have seen the plain ; 
for above its farther limit were several points of the Coast 
Eanges, isolated like islands in the sea. 

The view was so grand, the mountain colors so brilliant, 
immense snow-fields and blue alpine lakes so charming, 
that we almost forgot we were ever to move, and it was 



6Q MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

only after a swift hour of this delight that we hegan to 
consider our future course. 

The Kmg's Canon, which headed against our wall, 
seemed untraversable, — no human being could climb 
along the divide ; we had then but one hope of reach- 
ing the peak, and our greatest difficulty lay at the start. 
If we could climb down to the Kern side of the divide, 
and succeed in reaching the base of the precipices which 
fell from our feet, it really looked as if w^e might travel 
without difficulty among the rochcs moutonnecs to the other 
side of the Kern Valley, and make our attempt upon the 
southward flank of the great peak. One look at the sul> 
lime white giant decided us. We looked down over the 
precipice, UUd at first could see no method of descent. 
Then we went back and looked at the road we had come 
up, to see if that were not possibly as bad ; but the broken 
surface of the rocks was evidently much better climbing- 
ground than anything ahead of us. Cotter, with danger, 
edged his way along the wall to the east, and I to the west, 
to see if there might not be some favorable point ; but we 
both returned with the belief that the precipice in front 
of us was as passable as any of it. Down it we must. 

After lying on our faces, looking over the brink, ten or 
twenty minutes, I suggested that by lowering ourselves 
on the rope we might climb from cre^'ice to crevice ; but 
we saw no shelf large enough for ourselves and the knap- 
sacks too. However, we were not going to give it up 
without a trial ; and I made the rope fast round my 
breast, and, looping the noose over a firm point of rock, 
let myself slide gradually down to a notch forty feet 
below. There was only room beside me for Cotter, so I 
made him send down the knapsacks first. I then tied 
these together by the straps with my silk handkerchiefs, 
and hung them off as far to the left as I could reach with- 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 67 

out losing my balance, looping the handkerchiefs over a 
point of rock. Cotter then slid down the rope, and, with 
considerable difficulty, we whipped the noose off its rest- 
ing-place above, and cut off our connection with the upper 
world. 

" We 're in for it now. King," remarked my comrade, 
as he looked aloft, and then down; but our blood was 
up, and danger added only an exhilarating thrill to the 
nerves. 

The shelf was hardly more than two feet wide, and the 
granite so smooth that we could find no i^lace to fasten 
the lasso for the next descent ; so I determined to try the 
climb with only as little aid as ]30ssible. Tying it round 
my breast again, I gave the other end into Cotter's hands, 
and he, bracing his back against the cliff, found for him- 
self as firm a foothold as he could, and promised to give 
me all the help in his power. I made up my mind to 
bear no weight unless it was absolutely necessary ; and 
for the first ten feet I found cracks and protuberances 
enough to support me, making every square inch of sur- 
face do friction duty, and hugging myself againsj: the 
rocks as tightly as I could. When within about eight 
feet of the next shelf, I twisted myself round upon the 
face, hanging by two rough blocks of protruding feldspar, 
and looked vainly for some further hand-hold ; but the 
rock, beside being perfectly smooth, overhung slightly, 
and my legs dangled in the air. I saAv that the next 
cleft was over three feet broad, and I thought, possibly, I 
might, by a quick slide, reach it in safety without endanger- 
ing Cotter. I shouted to him to be very careful and let 
go in case I fell, loosened my hold upon the rope, and slid 
quickly down. My shoulder struck against the rock and 
threw me out of balance ; for an instant I reeled over 
upon the verge, in danger of falling, but, in the excite- 



68 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ment, I thrust out my hand and seized a small alpine 
goosebeny-bush, the first piece of vegetation we had seen. 
Its roots were so firmly fixed in the crevice that it held 
my weight and saved me, 

I could no longer see Cotter, but I talked to him, and 
heard the two knapsacks come bumping along till they 
slid over the eaves above me, and swung down to my 
station, when I seized the lasso's end and braced myself 
as well as possible, intending, if he slipped, to haul in 
slack and help him as best I might. As he came slowly 
down from crack to crack, I heard his hobnailed shoes 
grating on the granite ; presently they appeared dangling 
from the eaves above my head. I had gathered in the 
rope until it was taut, and then hurriedly told him to 
drop. He hesitated a moment, and let go. Before he 
struck the rock I had him by the shoulder, and whirled 
him down upon his side, thus preventing his rolling over- 
board, which friendly action he took quite coolly. 

The third descent was not a difficult one, nor the 
fourth ; but when we had climbed down about two hun- 
dred and fifty feet, the rocks were so glacially polished 
and water-worn that it seemed impossible to get any 
farther. To our right was a crack penetrating the rock 
perhaps a foot deep, widening at the surface to three or 
four inches, which proved to be the only possible ladder. 
As the chances seemed rather desperate, we concluded to 
tie ourselves tooether, in order to share a common fate ; 
and with a slack of thirty feet between us, and our 
knapsacks upon our backs, we climbed into the crevice, 
and began descending with our faces to the cliff. This 
had to be done with unusual caution, for the foothold 
was about as good as none, and" our fingers sli]3ped annoy- 
ingly on the smooth stone ; besides, the knapsacks and 
instruments kept a steady backward pull, tending to over- 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 69 

balance us. But we took pains to descend one at a time, 
and rest wherever the niches gave our feet a safe support. 
In this way we got down about eighty feet of smooth, 
nearly vertical wall, reaching the top of a rude granite 
stairway, which led to the snow ; and here we sat down 
to rest, and found to our astonishment that we had been 
three hours from the summit. 

After breathing a half-minute we continued down, 
jumping from rock to rock, and, having, by practice, 
become very expert in balancing ourselves, sprang on, 
never resting long enough to lose the aplomb, and in this 
manner made a quick descent over rugged dehris to the 
crest of a snow-field, which, for seven or eight hundred 
feet more, swept down in a smooth, even slope, of very 
high angle, to the borders of a frozen lake. 

Without untying the lasso which bound us together, 
we S23rang upon the snow with a shout, and glissaded 
down splendidly, turning now and then a somersault, and 
shooting out like cannon-balls almost to the middle of 
the frozen lake ; I upon my back, and Cotter feet first, in 
a swimming position. The ice cracked in all directions. 
It was only a thin, transparent film, through which we 
could see deep into the lake. Untying ourselves, we 
hurried ashore in different directions, lest our combined 
weight should be too great a strain upon any point. 

With curiosity and wonder we scanned every shelf and 

niche of the last descent. It seemed quite impossible we 

could have come down there, and now it actually was 

beyond human power to get back again. But what cared 

we ? " Sufficient unto the day — " We were bound for 

\ that still distant, though gradually nearing, summit ; and 

^ we had come from a cold shadowed cliff into deliciously 

warm sunshine, and were jolly, shouting, singing songs, 

\ and calling out the companionship of a hundred echoes. 



70 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Six miles away, with no grave danger, no great difficulty, 
between us, lay the base of our grand mountain. Upon 
its skirts we saw a little grove of pines, an ideal bivouac, 
and toward this we bent our course. 

After the continued climbing of the day, walking was 
a delicious rest, and forward we pressed with considerable 
speed, our hobnails giving us firm footing on the glittering 
glacial surface. Every fluting of the great valley was in 
itself a considerable canon, into which we descended, 
climbing down the scored rocks, and sAvinging from block 
to block, until we reached the level of the pines. Here, 
sheltered among roclies moutonnecs, began to appear little 
fields of alpine grass, pale yet sunny, soft under our feet, 
fragrantly jewelled with flowers of fairy delicacy, holding 
up amid thickly clustered blades chalices of turquoise 
and amethyst, white stars, and fiery little globes of red. 
Lakelets, small but innumerable, were held in glacial 
basins, the striae and grooves of that old dragon's track 
ornamenting their smooth bottoms. 

One of these, a sheet of pure beryl hue, gave us much 
pleasure from its lovely transparency, and because we 
lay down in the necklace of grass about it and smelled 
flowers, while tired muscles relaxed upon warm beds of 
verdure, and the pain in our burdened shoidders went 
away, leaving us delightfully comfortable. 

After the stern grandeur of granite and ice, and with 
the peaks and walls still in view, it was relief to find 
ourselves again in the region of life. I never felt for 
trees and flowers such a sense of intimate relationship 
and sympathy. Wlien we had no longer excuse for rest- 
ing, I invented the palpable subterfuge of measuring tlie 
altitude of the spot, since the few clumps of low, wide- 
boughed pines near by were the highest living trees. So 
we lay longer with less and less will to rise, and when 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 71 

resolution called us to our feet the getting-up was sorely 
like Eip Van Winkle's in the third act. 

The deep glacial canon-flutings across which our march 
then lay proved to be great consumers of time ; indeed it 
was sunset when we reached the eastern ascent, and be- 
gan to toil up through scattered pines, and over trains of 
moraine rocks, toward the great peak. Stars were 
already flashing brilliantly in the sky, and the low glow- 
ing arch in the west had almost vanished when we 
reached the upper trees, and threw down our knapsacks 
to camp. The forest grew on a sort of plateau-shelf with 
a precipitous front to the west, — a level surface which 
stretched eastw^ard and back to the foot of our moun- 
tain, whose lower spurs reached wdthin a mile of camp- 
Within the shelter lay a huge fallen log, like all these 
alpine woods one mass of resin, which flared up when 
we applied a match, illuminating the whole grove. By 
contrast with the darkness outside, we seemed to be in a 
vast, many-pillared hall. The stream close by afforded 
w^ater for our blessed teapot ; venison frizzled with mild, 
appetizing sound upon the ends of pine sticks ; matchless 
beans allowed themselves to become seductively crisp 
upon our tin plates. That supper seemed to me then the 
quintessence of gastronomy, and I am sure Cotter and I 
must have said some very good n2:)res-dmer things, though 
I long ago forgot them all. Within the ring of warmth, 
on elastic beds of pine-needles, we curled up, and fell 
swiftly into a sound sleep. 

I woke up once in the night to look at my watch, and 
observed that the sky was overcast with a thm film of 
cirrus cloud to which the reflected moonlight lent the ap- 
pearance of a glimmering tint, stretched from mountain 
to mountain over canons filled with impenetrable dark- 
ness, only the vaguely lighted peaks and white snow- 



72 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

fields distinctly seen. I closed my eyes and slept 
soundly until Cotter woke me at half past three, when 
we arose, breakfasted by the light of our fire, which still 
blazed brilliantly, and, leaving our knapsacks, started for 
the mountain with only instruments, canteens, and 
luncheon. 

In the indistinct moonlight climbing was very difficult 
at first, for we had to thread our way along a plain which 
was literally covered with glacier boulders, and the in- 
numerable brooks which we crossed were frozen solid. 
However, our march brought us to the base of the great 
mountain, which, rising high against the east, shut out 
the coming daylight, and kept us in profound shadow. 
From base to summit rose a series of broken crags, lift- 
ing themselves from a general slope of debris. Toward 
the left the angle seemed to be rather gentler, and the 
surface less ragged; and we hoped, by a long detour 
round the base, to make an easy climb up this gentler 
face. So we toiled on for an hour over the rocks, reach- 
ing at last the bottom of the north slope. Here oui' work 
began in good earnest. The blocks were of enormous 
size, and in every stage of unstable equilibrium, frequently 
rolling over as we jumped upon them, making it neces- 
sary for us to take a second leap and land where we best 
could. To our relief we soon surmounted the largest 
blocks, reaching a smaller size, which served us as a sort 
of stairway. 

The advancing daylight revealed to us a very long, 
comparatively even snow-slope, whose surface was 
pierced by many knobs and granite heads, giving it 
the aspect of an ice-roofing fastened on with bolts of 
stone. It stretched in far perspective to the summit, 
where already the rose of sunrise reflected gloriously, 
kindling a fresh enthusiasm within us. 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 73 

Immense boulders were partly embedded in the ice 
just above us, whose constant melting left them trem- 
bling on the edge of a faU. It communicated no very 
pleasant sensation to see above you these immense mis- 
siles hanging by a mere band, and knowing that, as soon 
as the sun rose, you would be exposed to a constant can- 
nonade. 

The east side of the peak, which we could now par- 
tially see, was too precipitous to think of climbing. The 
slope toward our camp was too much broken into pinna- 
cles and crags to offer us any hope, or to divert us from 
the single way, dead ahead, up slopes of ice and among 
fragments of granite. The sun rose upon us while we 
were climbing the lower part of this snow, and in less 
than half an hour, melting, began to liberate huge blocks, 
which thundered down past us, gathering and growing 
into small avalanches below. 

We did not dare climb one above another, according to 
our ordinary mode, but kept about an equal level, a hun- 
dred feet apart, lest, dislodging the blocks, one shoidd hurl ' 
them down upon the other. 

We climbed alternately up smooth faces of granite, 
clinging simply by the cracks and protruding crystals of 
feldspar, and then hewed steps up fearfully steep slopes 
of ice, zigzagging to the right and left to avoid the flying 
boulders. When midway up this slope we reached a place 
where the granite rose in perfectly smooth bluffs on either 
side of a gorge, — a narrow cut, or walled way, leading up 
to the flat summit of the cliff. This we scaled by cutting 
ice steps, only to find ourselves fronted again by a still 
higher wall. Ice sloped from its front at too steep an 
anc^le for us to follow, but had melted in contact with it, 
leaving a space three feet wide between the ice and the 
rock. We entered this crevice and climbed along its 

4 




74 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

bottom, with a wall of rock rising a hundred feet above 
us on one side, and a thirty-foot face of ice on the other, 
through which light of an intense cobalt-blue penetrated. 

Beaching the upper end, we had to cut our footsteps 
upon the ice again, and, having braced our backs against 
the granite, climb up to the surface. We were now in a 
dangerous position : to fall into the crevice upon one side 
was to be wedged to death between rock and ice ; to make 
a slip was to be shot down five hundred feet, and then 
hurled over the brink of a precipice. In the friendly seat 
which this wedge gave me, I stopped to take wet and dry 
observations with the thermometer, — this being an abso- 
lute preventive of a scare, — and to enjoy the view. 

The wall of our mountain sank abruptly to the left, 
opening for the first time an outlook to the eastward. 
Deep — it seemed almost vertically — beneath us we 
could see the blue water of Owen's Lake, ten thousand 
feet down. The summit peaks to the north were piled in 
titanic confusion, their ridges overhanging the eastern 
slope with terrible abruptness. Clustered upon the 
shelves and plateaus below were several frozen lakes, 
and in all directions swept magnificent fields of snow. 
The summit was now not over five hundred feet distant, 
and we started on again witli the exhilarating hope of 
success. But if Nature had intended to secure the sum- 
mit from all assailants, she could not have planned her 
defences better ; for the smooth granite wall which rose 
above the snow-slope continued, apparently, quite round 
the peak, and we looked in great anxiety to see if there 
was not one place where it might be climbed. It was all 
blank except in one place ; quite near us the snow bridged 
across the crevice, and rose in a long point to the summit 
of the wall, — a great icicle-column frozen in a niche of 
the bluff, — its base about ten feet wide, narrowing to 



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 75 

two feet at the top. We climbed to the base of this spire 
of ice, and, ^yith the utmost care, began to cut our stair- 
way. The material was an exceedingly compacted snow, 
passing into clear ice as it neared the rock. We climbed 
the first half of it with comparative ease ; after that it 
was almost vertical, and so thin that we did not dare to 
cut the footsteps deep enough to make them absolutely 
safe. There was a constant dread lest our ladder should 
break off, and we be thrown either down the snow-slope 
or into the bottom of the crevasse. At last, in order to 
prevent myself from falling over backwards, I was obliged 
to thrust my hand into the crack between the ice and the 
wall, and the spire became so narrow that I could do this 
on both sides ; so that the climb was made as upon a tree, 
cutting mere toe-holes and embracing the whole column 
of ice in my arms. At last I reached the to]3, and, with 
the greatest caution, wormed my body over the brink, and, 
rolling out upon the smooth surface of the granite, looked 
over and watched Cotter make his climb. He came 
steadily up, with no sense of nervousness, until he got 
to the narrow part of the ice, and here he stopped and 
looked up with a forlorn face to me ; but as he climbed 
up over the edge the broad smile came back to his face, 
and he asked me if it had occurred to me that we had, by 
and by, to go down again. 

We had now an easy slope to the summit, and hurried 
up over rocks and ice, reaching the crest at exactly twelve 
o'clock. I rang my hammer upon the topmost rock ; we 
grasped hands, and I reverently named the grand peak 
MouNf Tyndall. 



76 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 



IV. 
THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 

To our surprise, upon sweeping the horizon with my 
level, there appeared two peaks equal in lieight with us, 
and two rising even higher. That which looked highest 
of all was a cleanly cut helmet of granite upon the same 
ridge with Mount Tyndall, lying about six miles south, 
and fronting the desert with a bold square bluff which 
rises to the crest of the peak, where a white fold of snow 
trims it gracefully. 

Mount Whitney, as we afterwards called it in honor of 
our chief, is probably the highest land within the United 
States. Its summit looked glorious, but inaccessible. 

The general topography overlooked by us may be thus 
simply outlined. Two parallel chains, enclosing an inter- 
mediate trough, face each other. Across this deep en- 
closed gulf, from wall to wall, juts the thin, but lofty and 
craggy ridge, or " divide," before described, which forms 
an important water-shed, sending those streams which 
enter the chasm north of it into King's Elver, those 
south forming the most important sources of the Kern, 
whose straight, rapidly deepening valley stretches south, 
carved profoundly in granite, while the King's, after 
flowing longitudinally in the opposite course for eight or 
ten miles, turns abruptly west around the base of Mount 
Brewer, cuts across the western ridge, opening a gate of 
its own, and carves a rock channel transversely down the 
Sierra to the California plain. 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 77 

Fronting us stood the west chain, a great mural ridge 
watched over by two dominant heights, Kaweah Peak 
and Mount Brewer, its wonderful profile defining against 
the western sky a multitude of peaks and spires. Bold 
buttresses jut out through fields of ice, and reach down 
stone arms among snow and debris. North and south of 
us the higher, or eastern, summit stretched on in miles 
and miles of snow-peaks, the farthest horizon still 
crowded with their white points. East the whole range 
fell in sharp, hurrying abruptness to the desert, where, 
ten thousand feet below, lay a vast expanse of arid plain 
intersected by low parallel ranges, traced from north to 
south. Upon the one side a thousand sculptures of stone, 
hard, sharp, shattered by cold into infiniteness of frac- 
tures and rift, springing up, mutely severe, into the dark, 
austere blue of heaven ; scarred and marked, except where 
snow or ice, spiked down by ragged granite bolts, shields 
with its pale armor these rough mountain shoulders; 
storm-tinted at summit, and dark where, swooping down 
from ragged cliff, the rocks plunge over caiion-walls into 
blue, silent gulfs. 

Upon the other hand, reaching out to horizons faint 
and remote, lay plains clouded with the ashen hues 
of death; stark, wind-swept floors of white, and hill- 
ranges, rigidly formal, monotonously low, all lying 
under an unfeeling brilliance of light, which, for all 
its strange, unclouded clearness, has yet a vague half- 
darkness, a suggestion of black and shade more truly pa- 
thetic than fading twilight. No greenness soothes, no 
shadow cools the glare. Owen's Lake, an oval of acrid 
water, lies dense blue upon the brown sage-plain, looking 
like a plate of hot metal. Traced in ancient beach-lines, 
here and there upon hill and plain, relics of ancient lake- 
shore outline the memory of a cooler past, — a period of 



78 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

life and verdure when tlie stony chains were green 
islands among basins of wide, watery expanse. 

The two halves of this view, both in sight at once, ex- 
press the highest, the most acute, aspects of desolation, — 
inanimate forms out of which something living has gone 
forever. From the desert have been dried up and blown 
away its seas. Their shores and white, salt-strewn bot- 
toms lie there in the eloquence of death. Sharp white 
light glances from all the mountain-walls, where in marks 
and polishings has been written the epitaph of glaciers 
now melted and vanished into air. Vacant canons lie 
open to the sun, bare, treeless, half shrouded with snow, 
cumbered with loads of broken debris, still as graves, 
except when flights of rocks rush down some chasm's 
throat, startling the mountains with harsh, dry rattle, 
their fainter echoes from below followed too quickly by 
dense silence. 

The serene sky is grave with nocturnal darkness. The 
earth blinds you with its light. That fair contrast we 
love in lower lands between bright heavens and dark cool 
earth here reverses itself with terrible energy. You look 
up into an infinite vault, unveiled by clouds, empty and 
dark, from whicli no brightness seems to ray, an expanse 
with no graded perspective, no tremble, no vapory mobil- 
ity, only the vast yawning of hollow space. 

AVith an aspect of endless remoteness burns the small 
white sun, yet its light seems to pass invisibly through 
the sky, blazing out with intensity upon mountain and 
plain, flooding rock details with painfully briglit reflec- 
tions, and lighting up the burnt sand and stone of the 
desert with a strange blinding glare. There is no senti- 
ment of beauty in the whole scene ; no suggestion, how- 
ever far remote, of sheltered landscape ; not even the air 
of virgin hospitality that greets us explorers in so many 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 79 

uninhabited spots which by their fertility and loveliness 
of grove or meadow seem to offer man a home, or us 
nomads a pleasant camp-ground. Silence and desolation 
are the themes which nature has wrought out under this 
eternally serious sky. A faint suggestion of life clings 
about the middle altitudes of the eastern slope, where 
black companies of pine, stunted from l^reathing the hot 
desert air, group themselves just beneath the bottom of 
perpetual snow, or grow in patches of cloudy darkness 
over the moraines, those piles of wreck crowded from 
their pathway by glaciers long dead. Something there is 
pathetic in the very emptiness of these old glacier valleys, 
these imperishable tracks of unseen engines. One's eye 
ranges up their broad, open channel to the shrunken white 
fields surrounding hollow amphitheatres which were once 
crowded with deep burdens of snow, — the birthplace of 
rivers of ice now wholly melted ; the dry, clear heavens 
overhead, blank of any promise of ever rebuilding them. 
I have never seen Nature when she seemed so little 
" Mother Nature " as in this place of rocks and snow, 
echoes and emptiness. It impresses me as the ruins of 
some bygone geological period, and no part of the present 
order, like a specimen of chaos which has defied the 
finishing hand of Time. 

Of course I see its bearings upon climate, and could 
read a lesson quite glibly as to its usefulness as a con- 
denser, and tell you gravely how much California has for 
which she may thank these heights, and how little Ne- 
vada ;. but looking from this summit with all desire to 
see everything, the one overmastering feeling is deso- 
lation, desolation ! 

Next to this, and more pleasing to notice, is the in- 
terest and richness of the granite forms ; for the whole 
region, from plain to plain, is built of this dense solid 



80 . MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

rock, and is sculptured under chisel of cold in shapes of 
great variety, yet all having a common spirit, which is 
purely Gothic. 

In the much discussed origin of this order of building, 
I never remember to have seen, though it can hardly have 
escaped mention, any suggestion of the possibility of the 
Gothic having been inspired by granite forms. Yet, as I 
sat on Mount Tyndall, the whole mountains shaped tliem- 
selves like the ruins of cathedrals, — sharp roof-ridges, 
pinnacled and statued ; buttresses more spired and orna- 
mented than IMilan's ; receding doorways with pointed 
arches carved into blank faqades of granite, doors never 
to be opened, innumerable jutting points with here and 
there a single cruciform peak, its frozen roof and granite 
spires so strikingly Gothic I cannot doubt that the Alps 
furnished the models for early cathedrals of that order. 

I thoroughly enjoyed the silence, which, gratefully con- 
trasting with the surrounding tumult of form, conveyed, 
to me a new sentiment. I have lain and listened through 
the heavy calm of a tropical voyage, hour after hour, 
longing for a sound ; and in desert nights the dead still- 
ness has many a time awakened me from sleep. For 
moments, too, in my forest life, the groves made absolutely 
no breath of movement ; but there is around these sum- 
mits the soundlessness of a vacuum. The sea stilhiess 
is that of sleep. The desert of death, this silence is 
like the waveless calm of space. 

All the while I made my instrumental observations 
the fascination of the view so held me that I felt no sur- 
prise at seeing water boiling over our little fagot blaze 
at a temperature of one hundred and ninety-two degrees 
F., nor in observing the barometrical column stand at 
17.99 inches ; and it was not till a week or so after 
that I realized we had felt none of the conventional sen- 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 81 

satioiis of nausea, headache, and I don't know what all, 
that people are supposed to suffer at extreme altitudes ; 
but these things go with guides and porters, I believe, 
and with coming down to one's hotel at evening there to 
scold one's picturesque aubcrgiste in a French which 
strikes upon his ear as a foreign tongue ; possibly all that 
will come to us with advancing time, and what is known 
as " doing America." They are already shooting our 
buffaloes ; it cannot be long before they will cause them- 
selves to be honorably dragged up and down our Sierras, 
with perennial yellow gaiter, and ostentation of bath- 
tub. 

Having completed our observations, we packed up the 
instruments, glanced once again around the whole field of 
view, and descended to the top of our icicle ladder. Upon 
looking over, I saw to my consternation that during the 
day the upper half had broken off. Scars traced down 
upon the snow-field below it indicated the manner of its 
fall, and far below, upon the shattered debris, were strewn 
its white relics. I saw that nothing but the sudden gift 
of wings could possibly take us down to the snow-ridge. 
We held council and concluded to climb quite round the 
peak in search of the best mode of descent. 

As w^e crept about the east face, we could look straight 
down upon Owen's Valley, and into the vast glacier 
gorges, and over piles of moraines and fluted rocks, and 
the frozen lakes of the eastern slope. AVhen we reached 
the southwest front of the mountain we found that its 
general form was that of an immense horseshoe, the 
great eastern ridge forming one side, and the spur which 
descended to our camp the other, we having climbed up 
the outer part of the toe. Within the curve of the horse- 
shoe was a gorge, cut almost perpendicularly down two 
thousand feet, its side rough -hewn walls of rocks and 

4* F 



82 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

snow, its narrow bottom almost a continuous chain of 
deep blue lakes with loads of ice and debris piles. The 
stream which flowed through them joined the waters from 
our home grove, a couple of miles below the camp. If 
we could reach the level of the lakes, I believed we might 
easily climb round them, and out of the upper end of the 
horseshoe, and walk upon the Kern plateau round to our 
bivouac. 

It required a couple of hours of ver}^ painstaking de- 
liberate climbing to get down the first descent, which we 
did, however, without hurting our barometer, and for- 
tunately without the fatiguing use of the lasso ; reaching 
finally the uppermost lake, a granite bowlful of cobalt- 
blue water, transparent and unrippled. So high and 
enclosing were the tall walls about us, so narrow and 
shut in the canon, so flattened seemed the cover of sky, 
we felt oppressed after the expanse and freedom of our 
hours on the summit. 

The snow-field we followed, descending farther, was 
irregularly honeycombed in deep pits, circular or ir- 
regular in form, and melted to a greater or less depth, 
holding each a large stone embedded in the bottom. It 
seems they must have fallen from the overhanging heights 
with suflicient force to plunge into the snow. 

Brilliant light and strong color met our eyes at every 
glance, — the rocks of a deep purple-red tint, the pure 
alpine lakes of a cheerful sapphire blue, the snow glitter- 
ingly white. The walls on either side for half their 
height were planed and polished by glaciers, and from 
the smoothly glazed sides the sun was reflected as from a 
mirror. 

Mile after mile we walked cautiously over the snow, 
and climbed around the margins of lakes, and over piles 
of deh'is which marked the ancient terminal moraines. 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 83 

At length we reached the end of the horseshoe, where 
the walls contracted to a gateway, rising on either side 
in immense vertical pillars a thousand feet high. 
Through this gateway we could look down the valley 
of the Kern, and beyond to the gentler ridges where a 
smooth growth of forest darkened the rolling plateau. 
Passing the last snow, we walked through this gateway 
and turned westward round the spur toward our camp. 
The three miles which closed our walk were alternately 
through groves of Finus ficxilis and upon plains of 
granite. 

The glacier sculpture and planing are here very beauti- 
ful, the large crystals of orthoclase with which the granite 
is studded being cut down to the common level, their 
rosy tint making with the white base a beautiful bur- 
nished porphyry. 

The sun was still an hour high when we reached 
camp, and with a feeling of relaxation and repose we 
threw ourselves down to rest by the log, which still con- 
tinued blazing. We had accomplished our purpose. 

During the last hour or two of our tramp Cotter had 
complained of his shoes, which were rapidly going to 
pieces. Upon examination we found to our dismay that 
there was not over half a day's wear left in them, a ca- 
lamity which gave to our difficult homeward climb a new 
element of danger. The last nail had been worn from 
my own shoes, and the soles were scratched to the quick, 
but I believed them stout enough to hold together till we 
should reach the main camp. 

We planned a pair of moccasins for Cotter, and then 
spent a pleasant evening by the camp-fire, rehearsing our 
climb to the detail, sleep finally overtaking us and hold- 
ing us fast bound until broad daylight next morning, 
when we woke with a sense of having slept for a week, 



84 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

quite briglit and perfectly refreshed for our homeward 
journey. 

After a frugal breakfast, in which we limited ourselves 
to a few cubic inches of venison, and a couple of stingy 
slices of bread, wdth a single meagre cup of diluted tea, 
we shouldered our knapsacks, which now sat lightly upon 
toughened shoulders, and marched out upon the granite 
plateau. 

We had concluded that it was impossible to retrace 
our former way, knowing well that the precipitous divide 
could not be climbed from this side ; then, too, w^e had 
gained such confidence in our climbing powers, from con- 
stant victory, tliat we concluded to attempt the passage 
of the great King's Canon, mainly because this was the 
only mode of reaching camp, and since the geological 
section of the granite it exposed w^ould afford us an ex- 
ceedingly instructive study. 

The broad granite plateau which forms the upper 
region of the Kern Valley slopes in general inclination 
up to the great divide. This remarkably pinnacled ridge, 
where it' approaches the Mount Tyndall w^all, breaks down 
into a broad depression where the Kern Valley sweeps 
northward, until it suddenly breaks ofiP in precipices three 
thousand feet down into the King's Canon. 

The morning w^as wholly consumed in walking up this 
gently inclined plane of granite, our way leading over 
the glacier-polished foldings and along graded undula- 
tions among labyrinths of alpine garden and wildernesses 
of erratic boulders, little lake-basins, and scattered clusters 
of dwarfed and sombre pine. 

About noon w^e came suddenly upon the brink of a 
precipice which sunk sharply from our feet into the gulf 
of the King's Canon. Directly opposite us rose Mount 
Brewer and up out of the depths of those vast sheets 



THE DKSGENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL, 85 

of frozen snow swept spiry buttress-ridges, dividing the 
upper heights into those amphitheatres over which we 
had struggled on our outward journey. Straight across 
from our point of view was the chamber of rock and ice 
where we had camped on the first night. The wall at 
our feet fell sharp and rugged, its lower two-thirds hidden ^ 
from our view by the projections of a thousand feet of 
crags. Here and there, as we looked down, small patches 
of ice, held in rough hollows, rested upon the steep sur- 
face, but it was too abrupt for any great fields of snow. 
I dislodged a boulder upon the edge and watched it 
bound down the rocky precipice, dash over eaves a thou- 
sand feet below us, and disappear ; the crash of its fall com- 
ing up to us from the unseen depths fainter and fainter, 
until the air only trembled with confused echoes. 

A long look at the pass to the south of Mount Brewer, 
where we had ]3pted from our friends, animated us with 
courage to begin the descent, which we did with utmost 
care, for the rocks, becoming more and more glacier- 
smoothed, afforded us hardly any firm footholds. When 
down about eight hundred feet we again rolled rocks ahead 
of us, and saw them disappear over the eaves, and only 
• heard the sound of their stroke after many seconds, which 
convinced us that directly below lay a great precipice. 

At this juncture the soles came entirely off Cotter's 
shoes, and we stopped upon a little cliff of granite to 
make him moccasins of our provision bags and slips of 
blanket, tying them on as firmly as we could with the 
extra straps and buckskin thongs. 

Climbing with these proved so insecure that I made 
Cotter go behind me, knowing that under ordinary cir- 
cumstances I could sto23 him if he fell. 

Here and there in the clefts of the rocks grew stunted 
pine bushes, their roots twisted so firmly into the crevices 



86 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

that we laid hold of them ^Yitll the utmost confidence 
whenever they came within our reach. In this way we 
descended to within fifty feet of the brink, having as yet 
no knowledge of the cliffs below, except our general 
memoiy of their aspect from the Mount Brewer wall. 

The rock was so steep that we descended in a sitting 
posture, clinging with our hands and heels. 

I heard Cotter say, " I think I must take off these moc- 
casins and try it barefooted, for I don't believe I can make 
it." These words were instantly followed by a startled 
cry, and I looked round to see him slide quickly toward 
me, struggling and clutching at the smooth granite. As 
he slid by I made a gi^ab for him with my right hand, 
catching him by the shirt, and, throwing myself as far in 
the other direction as I could, seized with my left hand a 
little pine tuft, which held us. I asked Cotter to edge 
along a little to the left, w^here he could get a brace with 
his feet and relieve me of his weight, which he cautiously 
did. I then threw a couple of turns with the lasso round 
the roots of the pine bush, and we were safe, though 
hardly more than twenty feet from the brink. The pres- 
sure of curiosity to get a look over that edge was so 
strong within me, that I lengthened out sufficient lasso 
to reach the end, and slid slowly to the edge, where, lean- 
ing over, I looked down, getting a full view of the wall 
for miles. Directly beneath, a sheer cliff of three or four 
hundred feet stretched down to a pile of debris which rose 
to unequal heights along its face, reaching the very crest 
not more than a hundred feet south of us. From that 
point to the bottom of the canon broken rocks, ridges 
rising through vast sweeps of debris, tufts of pine and 
frozen bodies of ice, covered the further slope. 

I returned to Cotter, and, having loosened ourselves 
from the pine bush, inch by inch crept along the granite 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 87 

until we supposed ourselves to be just over the top of the 
debris pile, where I found a firm brace for my feet, and 
lowered Cotter to the edge. He sang out " All right ! " and 
climbed over on the uppermost debris, his head only re- 
maining in sight of me ; when I lay down upon my back, 
making knaj)sack and body do friction duty, and, letting 
myself move, followed Cotter and reached his side. 

From that point the descent required us two hours of 
severe constant labor, which was monotonous of itself, 
and would have proved excessively tiresome but for the 
constant interest of glacial geology beneath us. Wlien at 
last we reached bottom and found ourselves upon a 
velvety green meadow, beneath the shadow of wide -armed 
pines, we realized the amount of muscular force we had 
used up, and threw ourselves down for a rest of half an 
hour, when we rose, not quite renewed, but fresh enough 
to finish the day's climb. 

In a few minutes we stood upon the rocks just above 
King's Eiver, — a broad white torrent fretting its way 
along the bottom of an impassable gorge. Looking down 
the stream, we saw that our right bank was a continued 
precipice, affording, so far as we could see, no possible de- 
scent to the river's margin, and indeed, had we gotten 
down, the torrent rushed with such fury that we could 
not possibly have crossed it. To the south of us, a little 
way up stream, the river flowed out from a broad oval 
lake, three quarters of a mile in length, which occupied 
the bottom of the gTanite basin. Unable to cross the tor- 
rent, we must either swim the lake or climb round its 
head. Upon our side the walls of the basin curved to 
the head of the lake in sharp smooth precipices, or broken 
slopes of debris; while on the opposite side its margin 
was a beautiful shore of emerald meadow, edged with a 
continuous gTove of coniferous trees. Once upon this 



88 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

other side, we should have completed the severe part of 
our journey, crossed the gulf, and have left all danger be- 
hind us ; for the long slope of granite and ice which rose 
upon the west side of the canon and the Mount Brewer 
wall opposed to us no trials save those of simple fatigue. 

Around the head of the lake were crags and precipices 
in singularly forbidding arrangement. As we turned 
thither we saw no possible way of overcoming them. At 
its head the lake lay in an angle of the vertical wall, sharp 
and straight like the corner of a room ; about three hun- 
dred feet in height, and for two hundred and fifty feet of 
this, a pyramidal pile of blue ice rose from the lake, rest- 
ed against the corner, and reached within forty feet of 
the top. Looking into the deep blue water of the lake, I 
concluded that in our exhausted state it was madness 
to attempt to swim it. The only other alternative was to 
scale that slender pyramid of ice and find some way to 
climb the forty feet of smooth wall above it ; a plan we 
chose perforce, and started at once to put into execution, 
determined that if we were unsuccessful we would fire a 
dead log which lay near, w^arm ourselves thoroughly, and 
attempt the swim. At its base the ice mass overhung 
the lake like a roof, under which the water had melted 
its way for a distance of not less than a hundred feet, a 
tliin eave overhanging the water. To the very edge of 
this I cautiously went, and, looking down into the lake, 
saw though its beryl depths the white granite blocks 
strewn upon the bottom at least one hundred feet below 
me. It was exceedingly transparent, and, under ordinary 
circumstances, would have been a most tempting place for 
a dive ; but at the end of our long fatigue, and with the 
still unknown tasks ahead, I shrunk from a swim in such 
a chilly temperature. 

We found the ice-angle difficultly steep, but made our 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 89 

way successfully along its edge, clambering up the crev- 
ices melted between its body and the smooth granite to a 
point not far from the top, where the ice had considerably 
narrowed, and rocks overhanging it encroached so closely 
that we were obliged to leave the edge and make our way 
with cut steps out upon its front. Streams of water, drop- 
ping from the overhanging rock-eaves at many points, had 
worn circular shafts into the ice, three feet in diameter 
and twenty feet in depth. Their edges offered us our 
only foothold, and we climbed from one to another, equally 
careful of slipping upon the slope itself, or falling into the 
wells. Upon the top of the ice we found a narrow, level 
platform, upon which we stood together, resting our backs 
in the granite corner, and looked down the awful pathway 
of King's Canon, until the rest nerved us up enough to 
turn our eyes upward at the forty feet of smooth granite 
which lay between us and safety. 

Here and there were small projections from its surface, 
little protruding knobs of feldspar, and crevices riven into 
its face for a few inches. 

As we tied ourselves together, I told Cotter to hold 
himself in readiness to jump down into one of these in 
case I fell, and started to climb up the wall, succeeding 
quite well for about twenty feet. About two feet above 
my hands was a crack, which, if my arms had been long 
enough to reach, would probably have led me to the very 
top ; but I judged it beyond my powers, and, Avith great 
care, descended to the side of Cotter, who believed that 
his superior length of arm would enable him to make the 
reach. 

I planted myself against the rock, and he started cau- 
tiously up the wall. Looking down the glare front of ice, 
it was not pleasant to consider at what velocity a slip 
would send me to the bottom, or at what angle, and to 



90 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

what probable deptli, I should be projected into the ice- 
water. Indeed, the idea of such a sudden bath was so 
annoying that I lifted my eyes toward my companion. 
He reached my farthest point without great difficulty, 
and made a bold spring for the crack, reaching it without 
an inch to spare, and holding on wholly by his fingers. 
He thus worked himself slowly along the crack toward 
the top, at last getting his arms over the brink, and grad- 
ually drawing his body up and out of sight. It was the* 
most splendid piece of slow gymnastics I ever witnessed. 
For a moment he said nothing ; but when I asked if he 
was all right cheerfully repeated, "All right." It was 
only a moment's work to send up the two knapsacks and 
barometer, and receive again my end of the lasso. As 
I tied it round my breast. Cotter said to me, in an easy, 
confident tone, " Don't be afraid to bear your w^eight." I 
made up my mind, however, to make that climb without 
his aid, and husbanded my strength as I climbed from 
crack to crack. I got up without difficulty to my former 
point, rested there a moment, hanging solely by my hands, 
gathered every pound of strength and atom of will for the 
reach, then jerked myself upward with a swdng, just get- 
ting the tips of my fingers into the crack. In an instant 
I had grasped it with my right hand also. I felt the 
sinews of my fingers relax a little, but the picture of the 
slope of ioe and the blue lake affected me so strongly 
that I redoubled my grip, and climbed slowly along the 
crack until I reached the angle and got one arm over 
the edge as Cotter had done. As I rested my body upon 
the edge and looked up at Cotter, I saw that, instead of a 
level top, he was sitting upon a smooth roof-like slope, 
where the least pull would have dragged him over the 
brink. He had no brace for his feet, nor hold for his 
hands, but had seated himself calmly, with the rope tied 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. '91 

round his breast, knowing that my only safety lay in 
being able to make the climb entirely unaided; certain 
that the least waver in his tone would have disheartened 
me, and perhaps made it impossible. The shock I 
received on seeing this affected me for a moment, but 
not enough to throw me off my guard, and I climbed 
quickly over the edge. When we had walked back out 
of danger we sat down upon the granite for a rest. 

In all my experience of mountaineering I have never 
known an act of such real, profound courage as this of 
Cotter's. It is one thing, in a moment of excitement, to 
make a gallant leap, or hold one's nerves in the iron grasp 
of will, but to coolly seat one's self in the door of death, and 
silently listen for the fatal summons, and this all for a 
friend, — for he might easily have cast loose the lasso 
and saved himself, — requires as sublime a type of cour- 
age as I know. 

But a few steps back we found a thicket of pine over- 
looking our lake, by which there flowed a clear rill of 
snow-water. Here, in the bottom of the great gulf, we 
made our bivouac ; for we w^ere already in the deep 
evening shadow^s, although the mountain-tops to the east 
of us still burned in the reflected light. It was the lux- 
ury of repose which kept me awake half an hour or so, 
in spite of my vain attempts at sleep. To listen for the 
pulsating sound of waterfalls and arrowy rushing of the 
brook by our beds was too deep a pleasure to quickly 
yield up. ^ 

Under the later moonlight I rose and went out upon 
the open rocks, allowing myself to be deeply impressed 
by the weird Dantesque surroundings ; — darkness, out 
of which to the sky towered stern, shaggy bodies of rock ; 
snow, uncertainly moonlit w^ith cold pallor ; and at my 
feet the basin of the lake, still, black, and gemmed with 



92 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

reflected stars, like the void into which Dante looked 
through the bottomless gulf of Dis. A little way off 
there appeared upon the brink of a projecting granite 
cornice two dimly seen forms ; pines I knew them to be, 
yet their motionless figures seemed bent forward, gazing 
down the canon ; and I allowed myself to name them 
Mantuan and Florentine, thinking at the same time how 
grand and spacious the scenery, and how powerful their 
attitude, how infinitely more profound tlie mystery of 
light and shade, than any of those hard, theatrical concep- 
tions with which Dore has sought to shut in our imagina- 
tion. That artist, as I believe, has reached a conspicuous 
failure from an overbalancing love of solid, impenetrable 
darkness. There is in all his Inferno landscape a certain 
sharp boundary between the real and unreal, and never the 
infinite suggestiveness of great regions of half-light, in 
which everything may be seen, nothing recognized. With- 
out waking Cotter, I crept back to my blankets, and to sleep. 
The morning of our fifth and last day's tramp must 
have dawned cheerfully; at least, so I suppose from its 
aspect when we first came back to consciousness, surprised 
to find the sun risen from the eastern mountain-wall and 
the whole gorge flooded with its direct light. Eising as 
good as new from our mattress of pine twigs, we hastened 
to take breakfast, and started up the long, broken slope of 
the Mount Brew^er wall. To reach tlie pass where we had 
parted from our friends required seven liours of slow, 
laborious climbing, in wdiich we took advantage of every 
outcropping spine of gi'anite and every level expanse of 
ice to hasten at the top of our speed. Cotter's feet w^ere 
severely cut , liis tracks upon the snow were marked by 
stains of blood, yet he kept on with undiminished spirit, 
never once complaining. The perfect success of our jour- 
ney so inspired us with happiness that w^e forgot danger 
and fatigue, and chatted in liveliest strain. 



THE DESCENT OF MOUNT TYNDALL. 93 

It was about two o'clock when we reached the summit 
and rested a moment to look back over our new Alps, 
which were hard and distinct under direct unpoetic light ; 
yet with all their dense gray and white reality, their long, 
sculptured ranks, and cold, still summits, we gave them a 
lingering farewell look, which was not without its deep 
fulness of emotion, then turned our backs and hurried 
down the debris slope into the rocky amphitheatre at the 
foot of Mount Brewer, and by five o'clock had reached 
our old camp-ground. We found here a note pinned to a 
tree informing us that the party had gone down into tlie 
lower canon, five miles below, that they might camp in 
better pasturage. 

The wind had scattered the ashes of our old camp-fire, 
and banished from it the last sentiment of home. We 
hurried on, climbing among the rocks which reached down 
to the crest of the great lateral moraine, and then on in 
rapid stride along its smooth crest, riveting our eyes upon 
the valley below, where we knew the party must be camped. 

At last, faintly curling above the sea of green tree-tops, 
a few faint clouds of smoke wafted upward into the air. 
We saw them with a burst of strong emotion, and ran 
down the steep flank of the moraine at the top of our 
speed. Our shouts were instantly answered by the three 
voices of our friends, who welcomed us to their camp-fire 
with tremendous hugs. 

After we had outlined for them the experience of our 
days, and as we lay outstretched at our ease, warm in the 
blaze of the glorious camp-fire. Brewer said to me, ''King, 
you have relieved me of a dreadful task. For the last 
three days I have been composing a letter to you^r family, 
but somehow I did not get beyond ' It becomes my pain- 
ful duty to inform you.' " 



94 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 



Y. 

THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 

Our return from Mount Tyndall to such civilization as 
flourishes around the Kaweah outposts was signalized by 
us chiefly as to our cuisine, which offered now such boun- 
ties as the potato, and once a salad, in which some middle- 
aged lettuce became the vehicle for a hollow mockery of 
dressing. Two or three days, during which we ctined at 
brief intervals, served to completely rest us, and put in 
excellent trim for further campaigning all except Profes- 
sor Brewer, upon whom a constant toothache wore pain- 
fully, — my bullet-mould failing even upon the third trial 
to extract the unruly member. 

It was determined we should ride together to Visalia, 
seventy miles away, and, the more we went, the im- 
patienter became my friend, till we agreed to push ahead 
through day and night, and reached the village at about 
sunrise in a state of reeling sleepiness quite indescribably 
funny. 

At evening, when it became time to start back for our 
mountain camp, my friend at last yielded consent to my 
project of climbing the Kern Sierras to attempt Moimt 
Whitney ; so I parted from him, and, remaining at Visalia, 
outfitted myself with a pack-horse, two mounted men, 
and provisions enough for a two weeks' trip. 

I purposely avoid telling by what route I entered the 
Sierras, because there lingers in my breast a desire to see 
once more that lovely region, and failing, as I do, to con- 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 95 

fide in the people, I fear lest, if the camp I am going to 
describe should be recognized, I might, upon revisiting 
the scene, suffer harm, or even come to an untimely end. 
I refrain, then, from telling by what road I found myseK 
entering the region of the pines one lovely twilight 
evening, two days after leaving Visalia. Pines, growing 
closer and closer, from sentinels gathered to groups, then 
stately groves, and at last, as the evening wore on, as- 
sembled in regular forest, through whose open tops the 
stars shone cheerfully. 

I came upon an open meadow, hearing in front the 
rush of a large brook, and directly reached two camp- 
fires, where were a number of persons. My two hirelings 
caught and unloaded the pack-horse, and set about their 
duties, looking to supper and the animals, while I pros- 
pected the two camps. That just below me, on the 
same side of the brook, I found to be the bivouac of a 
company of hunters, who, in the ten minutes of my call, 
made free with me, hospitably offering a jug of whiskey, 
and then went on in their old eternal way of making 
bear-stories out of whole cloth. 

I left them with a belief that my protoplasm and theirs 
must be different, in spite of Mr. Huxley, and passed across 
the brook to the other camp. Under noble groups of 
pines smouldered a generous heap of coals, the ruins of 
a mighty log. A little way from this lay a confused pile 
of bedclothes, partly old and half-bald buffalo-robes, but, 
in the main, thick strata of what is known to irony as 
comforters, upon which, outstretched in wretched awk- 
wardness of position, was a family, all with their feet to 
the fire, looking as if they had been blown over in one 
direction, or knocked down by a single bombshell. On 
the extremities of this common bed, with the air of hav- 
ing gotten as far from each other as possible, the mother 



96 ]\IOUNTAINEERIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

and father of the Pike family reclined ; between them were 
two small children — a girl and boy — and a huge girl, 
who, next the old man, lay flat upon her back, her mind 
absorbed in the simple amusement of waving one foot (a 
cowhide eleven) slowly across the fire, squinting, with 
half-shut eye, first at the vast shoe and thence at the fire, 
alternately hiding bright places and darting the foot 
quickly in the direction of any new display of heighten- 
ing flame. The mother was a bony sister, in the yellow, 
slirunken, of sharp visage, in which w^ere prominent two 
cold eyes and a positively poisonous mouth ; her hair, the 
color of faded hay, tangled in a jungle around her head. 
She rocked jerkily to and fro, removing at intervals a 
clay pipe from lier mouth in order to pucker her thin lips 
up to one side, and spit with precision upon a certain spot 
in the fire, which she seemed resolved to prevent from 
attaining beyond a certain faint glow. 

I have rarely felt more in difficulty for an overture 
to conversation, and was long before venturing to pro- 
pose, " You seem to have a pleasant camp-sjDot here." 
The old woman sharply, and in almost a tone of affront, 
answered, " They 's wus, and then again they 's better." 

"Doos well for our hogs," inserted the old man. 
" We 've a band of pork that make out to find feed." 

" Oh ! how many have you ? " I asked. 

" Nigh three thousand." 

" Won't you set ? " asked Madame ; then, turning, 
"You, Susan, can't you try for to set up, and not 
spread so ? Hain't you no manners, say ? " 

At this the massive girl got herself somewhat together, 
and made room for me, which I declined, however. 

" Prospecting ? " inquired Madame. 

" I say liuntin'," suggested the man. 

" Maybe he 's a cattle-feller," interrupted the little girl. 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 97 

" Goin' somewhere, ain't yer ? " was Susan's guess. 

I gave brief account of myself, evidently satisfying the 
social requirements of all but the old woman, who at once 
classified me as not up to her standard. Susan saw this, 
so did her father, and it became evident to me in ten 
minutes' conversation that they two were always at one, 
and made it their business to be in antagonism to the 
mother. They were then allies of mine from nature, and 
I felt at once at home. I saw too that Susan, having 
slid back to her horizontal position when I declined to 
share, her rightful ground, was watching with subtle so- 
licitude that fated spot in the fire, opposing sympathy 
and squints accurately aligned by her shoe to the dull 
spot in the embers, which slowly went out into blackness 
before the well-directed fire of her mother's saliva. 

The shouts which I heard proceeding from the direc- 
tion of my camp were easily translatable into summons 
for supper. Mr. ISTewty invited me to return later and 
be sociable, which I promised to do, and, going to my 
camp, supped quickly and left the men with orders about 
picketing the animals for the night, then, strolling slowly 
down to the camp of my friends, seated myself upon a 
log by the side of the old gentleman. Feeling that this 
somewhat formal attitude unfitted me for partaking to 
the fullest degree the social ease around me, and know- 
ing that my buckskin trousers were impervious to dirt, 
I slid down in a reclined posture with my feet to the fire, 
in absolute parallelism with the rest of the family. 

The old woman was in the exciting denouement of a 
coon-story, directed to her little boy, who sat clinging to 
her skirt and looking in her face with absorbed curiosity. 
" And when Johnnie fired," she said, " the coon fell and 
busted open." The little boy had misplaced his sym- 
pathies with the raccoon, and having inquired plain- 

5 O 



98 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

tively, " Did it hurt him ? " was promptly snubbed with 
the reply, " Of course it hurt him. What do you sup- 
pose coons is made for ? " Then turning to me she put 
what was plainly enough with her a test-question: "I 
allow you have killed your coon in your day?" I saw at 
once that I must forever sink beneath the horizon of her 
standards, but, failing in real experience or accurate 
knowledge concerning the coon, knew no subterfuges 
would work with her. Instinct had taught her that I 
had never killed a coon, and she had asked me thus os- 
tentatiously to place me at once and forever before the 
family in my true light. " No, ma'am," I said ; " now you 
speak of it, I realize that I never have killed a coon." 
This was something of a staggerer to Susan and her 
father, yet as the mother's pleasurable dissatisfaction with 
me displayed itself by more and more accurate salivary 
shots at the fire, they rose to the occasion, and began to 
palliate my past. " Maybe," ventured ^Ir. Newty, " that 
they don't have coon round the city of York " ; and I felt 
that I needed no self-defence when Susan firmly and 
defiantly suggested to her mother that perhaps I was in 
better business. 

Driven in upon herself for some time, the old woman 
smoked in silence, until Susan, seeing that her mother' 
gradually quenched a larger and larger circle upon the 
fire, got up and stretched herself, and giving the coals a 
vigorous poke swept out of sight the quenched spot, thus 
readily obliterating the result of her mother's precise and 
prolonged expectoration ; then flinging a few dry boughs 
upon the fire illumined the family with the ruddy blaze, 
and sat down again, leaning upon her father's knee with 
a faint light of triumph in her eye. 

I ventured a few platitudes concerning pigs, not pen- 
etrating the depths of that branch of rural science enough 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 99 

to betray my ignorance. Such sentiments as " A little 
piece of bacon well broiled for breakfast is very good," 
and "Nothing better than cold ham for lunch," were 
received by Susan and her father in the spirit I meant, — 
of entire good-will toward pork generically. I now look 
back in amusement at having fallen into this weakness, 
for the Mosaic view of pork has been mine from infancy, 
and campaigning upon government rations has, in truth, 
no tendency to dim this ancient faith. 

By half past nine the gates of conversation were fairly 
open, and our part of the circle enjoyed itself socially, — 
taciturnity and clouds of Virginia plug reigning supreme 
upon the other. The two little children crept under com- 
forters somewhere near the middle of the bed, and sub- 
sided pleasantly to sleep. The old man at last stretched 
sleepily, finally yawning out, " Susan, I do believe I am 
too tired out to go and see if them corral bars are down. 
I guess you '11 have to go. I reckon there ain't no bears 
round to-night." Susan rose to her feet, stretched her- 
self with her back to the fire, and I realized for the first 
time her amusing proportions. In the region of six feet, 
tall, square-shouldered, of firm iron back and heavy 
mould of limb, she yet possessed that suppleness which 
enabled her as she rose to throw herself into nearly all the 
attitudes of the Niobe children. As her yawn deepened, 
she waved nearly down to the ground, and then, rising 
upon tiptoe, stretched up her clinched fists to heaven 
with a groan of pleasure. Turning to me, she asked, 
" How would you like to see the hogs ? " The old man 
added, as an extra encouragement, " Pootiest band of hogs 
in Tulare County ! There 's littler of the real sissor-bill 
nor Mexican racer stock than any band I have ever seen 
in the State. I driv the original outfit from Pike County 
to Oregon in '51 and '52." By this time I was actually 



LolC. 



100 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

interested in them, and joining Susan we passed out into 
the forest. 

The full moon, now high in the heavens, looked down 
over the whole landscape of clustered forest and open 
meadow with tranquil silvery light. It whitened meas- 
urably the fine spiry tips of the trees, fell luminous upon 
broad bosses of granite which here and there rose through 
the soil, and glanced in trembling reflections from the 
rushing surface of the brook. Far in the distance moon- 
lit peaks towered in solemn rank against the sky. 

We walked silently on four or five minutes through 
the woods, coming at last upon a fence which margined 
a wide circular opening in the wood. The bars, as her 
father had feared, were down. We stepped over them, 
quietly entered the enclosure, put them up behind us, 
and proceeded to the middle, threading our way among 
sleeping swine to where a lonely tree rose to the height 
of about two hundred feet. Against this we placed our 
backs, and Susan waved her hand in pride over the two 
acres of tranquil pork. The eye, after accustoming itself 
to the darkness, took cognizance of a certain ridgyness of 
surface which came to be recognized as the objects of 
Susan's pride. 

Quite a pretty effect was caused by the shadow of the 
forest, which, cast obliquely downward by the moon, 
divided the corral into halves of lioiit and shade. 

The air was filled with heavy breathing, interrupted by 
here and there a snore, and at times by crescendos of 
tumult, caused by forty or fifty pigs doing battle for some 
favorite bed-place. 

I was informed that Susan did not wish me to judge 
of them by dark, but to see them again in the full light 
of day. She knew each individual pig by its physi- 
ognomy, having, as she said, " growed with 'em." 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 101 

As we strolled back toward the bars a dusky form dis- 
puted our way, — two small, sharp eyes and a wild crest 
of bristles were visible in the obscure light. '' That 's Old 
Arkansas," said Susan ; " he 's eight year old come next 
June, and I never could get him to like me." I felt for 
my pistol, but Susan struck a vigorous attitude, ejaculat- 
ing, " S-S-oway, Arkansas ! " She made a dash in his di- 
rection ; a wild scuffle ensued, in which I heard the dull 
thud of Susan's shoe, accompanied by, " Take that, dog- 
on-you ! " a cloud of dust, one shrill squeal, and Arkansas 
retreated into the darkness at a business-like trot. 

When quite near the bars the mighty girl launched 
herself into the air, alighting with her stomach across 
the topmost rail, where she hung a brief moment, made a 
violent musculal- contracUon, and alighted upon the ground 
outside, communicating to it a tremor quite perceptible 
from where I stood. I climbed over after her, and we 
sauntered under the trees back to camp. 

The family had disappeared, a few dry boughs, how- 
ever, thrown upon the coals, blazed up, and revealed their 
forms in the corrugated topography of the bed. 

I bade Susan good night, and before I could turn my 
back she kicked her number-eleven shoes into the air, 
and with masterly rapidity turned in, as Minerva is said 
to have done, in full panoply. 

I fled precipitately to my camp, and sought my blankets, 
lying awake in a kind of.half-revery, in which Susan and 
Arkansas, the old woman and her coons, were the prom- 
inent figures. Later I fell asleep, and lay motionless 
until the distant roar of swine awoke me before sunrise 
next morning. 

Seated upon my blankets, I beheld Susan's mother drag 
forth the two children, one after another, by the napes 
of their necks, and, shaking the sleep out of them, propel 



102 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

them spitefully toward the brook ; then taking her pipe 
from her mouth she bent low over the sleeping form of 
her huge daughter, and in a high, shrill, nasal key, 
screeched in her ear, " Yew Suse ! " 

No sign of life on the part of the daughter. 

" Susan, are you a-going to get up ? " 

Slight muscular contraction of the lower limbs. 

" Will you hear me, Susan ? " 

" Marm," whispered the girl, in low, sleepy tones. 

" Get up and let the hogs out ! " 

The idea had at length thrilled into Susan's brain, and 
with a violent suddenness she sat bolt upright, brushing 
her green-colored hair out of her eyes, and rubbing those 
valuable but bleared organs with the ponderous knuckles 
of her forefingers. 

By this time I started for the brook for my morning 
toilet, and the girl and I met upon opposite banks, 
stooping to wash our faces in the same pool. As I 
opened my dressing-case her lower jaw fell, revealing a 
row of ivory teeth rounded out by two well-developed 
"wisdoms," which had all that dazzling grin one sees in 
the show-windows of certain dental practitioners. It 
required but a moment to gather up a quart or so of 
water in her broad palms, and rub it vigorously into a 
small circle upon the middle of her face, the moisture 
working outward to a certain high-water mark, which, 
along her chin and cheeks, defined the limits of former 
ablution ; then, baring her large red arms to the elbow, she 
washed her hands, and stood resting them upon her hips, 
dripping freely, and watching me with intense curiosity. 

When I reached the towel process, she herself twisted 
her body after the manner of the Belvidere torso, bent low 
her head, gathered up the back breadths of her petticoat, 
and wiped her face vigorously upon it, which had the 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 103 

effect of tracing concentric streaks irregularly over her 
countenance. 

I parted my hair by the aid of a small dressing-glass, 
•which so fired Susan that she crossed the stream with a 
mighty jump, and stood in ecstasy by my side. She bor- 
rowed tlie glass, and then my comb, rewashed her face, 
and fell to work diligently upon her hair. 

All this did not so limit my perception as to prevent my 
watcliing the general demeanor of the family. The old 
man lay back at his ease, puffing a cloud of smoke ; liis 
wife, also emitting volumes of the vapor of " navy plug," 
squatted by the camp-fire, frying certain lumps of pork, 
and communicating an occasional spiral jerk to the 
coffee-pot, with the purpose, apparently, of stirring the 
grounds. The two children had gotten upon the back of 
a contemplative ass, who stood by the upper side of the 
bed quietly munching the corner of a comforter. 

My friend was in no haste. She squandered much 
time upon the arrangement of her towy hair, and there 
was something like a blush of conscious satisfaction when 
she handed me back my looking-glass and remarked 
ironically, " no, I guess not, — no, sir." 

I begged her to accept the comb and glass, which she 
did with maidenly joy. 

This unusual toilet had stimulated with self-respect 
Susan's every fibre, and as she sprung back across the 
brook and approached her mother's camp-fire, I could not 
fail to admire the magnificent turn of her slioulders and 
the powerful, queenly poise of her head. Her full, grand 
form and heavy strength reminded me of the statues of 
Ceres, yet there was withal a very unpleasant suggestion 
of fighting trim, a sort of prize-ring manner of swinging 
the arms, and hitching of the shoulders. She suddenly 
spied the children upon the jackass, and with one wide 



104 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

sweep of her right arm projected tliem over the creature's 
head, and planted her left eleven firmly in the ribs of 
the donkey, who beat a precipitate retreat in the direc- 
tion of the hog-pens, leaving her executing a _pas seul, — a 
kind of slow, stately jig, something between the minuet 
and WiQJuba, accompanying herself by a low-hummed air 
and a vigorous beating of time upon her slightly lifted 
knee. 

It required my Pike County friends but ten minutes to 
swallow their pork and begin the labors of the day. 

The mountaineers' camp was not yet astir. These chil- 
dren of the forest were well chained in slumber ; for, un- 
less there is some special programme for the day, it re- 
quires the leverage of a high sun to arouse their facul- 
ties, dormant enough by nature, and soothed into deepest 
quiet by whiskey. About eight o'clock they breakfasted, 
and by nine had. engaged my innocent camp-men in a 
game of social poker. 

I visited my horses, and had them picketed in the best 
possible feed, and congratulated myself that they were 
recruiting finely for the difficult ride before me. 

Susan, after a second appeal from her mother, ran over 
to the corral and let out the family capital, who streamed 
with exultant grunt through the forest, darkening the 
fair green meadow gardens, and happily passing out of 
sight. 

When I had breakfasted I joined Mr. Newty in his 
trip to the corral, where we stood together for hours, dur- 
ing which I had mastered the story of his years since, in 
1850, he left his old home in Pike of Missouri. 

It was one of those histories common enough through 
this wide West, yet never failing to startle me with its 
horrible lesson of social disintegration, of human retro- 
grade. 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 105 

That brave spirit of Westward Ho ! which has been the 
pillar of fire and cloud leading on the weary march of 
progress over stretches of desert, lining the way with 
graves of strong men ; of new-born Kves ; of sad, patient 
mothers, whose pathetic longing for the new home died 
with them ; of the thousand old and young whose last 
agony came to them as they marched with eyes strained 
on after the sunken sun, and whose shallow barrows 
scarcely lift over the drifting dust of the desert ; that rest- 
less spirit which has dared to uproot the old and plant 
the new, kindling the grand energy of California, laying 
foundations for a State to be, that is admirable, is poetic, 
is to fill an immortal page in the story of America ; but 
when, instead of urging on to wresting from new lands 
something better than old can give, it degenerates into 
mere weak-minded restlessness, killing the power of 
growth, the ideal of home, the faculty of repose, it results 
in that race of perpetual emigrants who roam as dreary 
waifs over the West, losing possessions, love of life, love 
of God, slowly dragging from valley to valley till they fall 
by the wayside, happy if some chance stranger performs 
for them the last rites, — often less fortunate, as blanched 
bones and fluttering rags upon too many hillsides plainly 
tell. 

The Newtys were of this dreary brotherhood. In 1850, 
with a small family of that authentic strain of high-bred 
swine for which Pike County is widely known, as Mr. New- 
ty avers, they bade Missouri and their snug farm good by, 
and, having packed their household goods into a wagon 
drawn by two spotted oxen, set out with the baby Susan 
for Oregon, where they came after a year's march, tired, 
and cursed with a permanent discontent. There they 
had taken up a rancho, a quarter-section of public domain, 
which at the end of two years was "improved'^ to the 

5* 



106 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NT:VADA. 

extent of the "neatest little worm fence this side of 
Pike," a barn, and a smoke-house. " In another year," 
said my friend, " I 'd have dug for a house, but we tuck 
ager and the second baby died." One day there came a 
man who " let on that he knowd " land in California much 
fairer and more worthy tillage than Oregon's best, so the 
poor Newtys harnessed up the wagon and turned their 
backs upon a home nearly ready for comfortable life, and 
swept south with pigs and plunder. Through all the 
years this story had repeated itself, new homes gotten to 
the edge of completion, more babies born, more graves 
made, more pigs, who replenished as only the Pike 
County variety may, till it seemed to me the mere mul- 
tiplication of them must reach a sufficient dead weight to 
anchor the family ; but this was dispelled when Newty 
remarked : " These yer hogs is awkward about moving, 
and I 've pretty much made my mind to put 'em all 
into bacon this fall, and sell out and start for Montana." 

Poor fellow ! at Montana he will probably find a man 
from Texas who in half an hour will persuade him that 
happiness lies there. 

As we walked back to their camp, and when Dame 
Newty hove in sight, my friend ventured to say, " Don't 
you mind the old woman and her coons. She 's from 
Arkansas. She used to say no man could have Susan 
who could n't show coonskins enough of his own killing 
to make a bedquilt, but she 's over that mostly." In 
spite of this assurance my heart fell a trifle when, the 
first moment of our return, she turned to her husband 
and asked, " Do you mind what a dead-open-and-shut 
on coons our little Johnny was when he was ten years 
old ? " I secretly wondered if the dead-open-and-shut 
had anything to do with his untimely demise at eleven, 
but kept silence. 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 107 

Regarding her as a sad product of the disease of chronic 
emigration, her hard thin nature, all angles and stings, 
became to me one of the most depressing and pathetic 
spectacles, and the more when her fever-and-ague boy, a 
mass of bilious lymph, came and sat by her, looking up 
with great haggard eyes as if pleading for something, he 
knew not what, but which I plainly saw only death could 
bestow. 

Noon brought the hour of my departure. Susan and 
her father talked apart a moment, then the old man said 
the two would ride along with me for a few miles, as 
he had to go in that direction to look for new hog-feed. 

I despatched my two men with the pack-horse, direct- 
ing them to follow the trail, then saddled my Kaweah 
and waited for the Newtys. The old man saddled a 
shaggy little mountain pony for himself, and for Susan 
strapped a sheepskin upon the back of a young and fiery 
mustang colt. 

While they were getting ready, I made my horse fast 
to a stake and stepped over to bid good by to Mrs. Newty. 
I said to her, in tones of deference, " I have come to bid 
you good by, madam, and wlien I get back this way I 
hope you will be kind enough to tell me one or two 
really first-rate coon-stories. I am quite ignorant of that 
animal, having been raised in countries where they are 
extremely rare, and I would like to know more of what 
seems to be to you a creature of such interest." The wet, 
gray eyes relaxed, as I fancied, a trifle of their asperity ; 
a faint kindle seemed to light them for an instant as she 
asked, " You never see coons catch frogs in a spring 
branch ? " 

" No, Madame," I answered. 

" Well, I wonder ! Well, take care of yourself, and 
when you come back this way stop along with us, and 



.108 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

we '11 kill a yearlin' and I '11 tell you about a coon that 
used to live under grandfather's barn." She actually of- 
fered me her hand, which I gi-asped and shook in a 
friendly manner, chilled to the very bone with its damp 
coldness. 

Mr. JSTewty mounted, and asked me if I was ready. 
Susan stood holding her prancing mustang. To put that 
girl on her horse after the ordinary plan would have re- 
quired the strength of Samson, or the use of a step-ladder, 
neither of which I possessed ; so I waited for events to de- 
velop themselves. The girl stepped to the left side of 
her horse, twisted one hand in the mane, laying the other 
upon his haunches, and, crouching for a jump, sailed 
through the air, alighting upon the sheepskin. The horse 
reared, and Susan, twisting herself around, came right 
side up with her knee upon the sheepskin, shouting, as 
she did so, " I guess you don't get me off, sir ! " I 
jumped upon Kaweah, and our two horses -sprang forward 
together, Susan waving her hand to her father, and crying, 
" Come along after, old man ! " and to her mother, " Take 
care of yourself ! " which is the Pike County for Au 
revoir ! Her mustang tugged at the bit, and bounded 
wildly into the air. AVe reached a stream bank at full 
galloj), the horses clearing it at a bound, sweeping on over 
the green floor, and under the magnificent shadow of the 
forest. ]N"ewty, following us at an humble trot, slopped 
through the creek, and when I last looked he had nearly 
reached the edge of the wood. 

I could but admire the unconscious excellence of Susan's 
riding, her firm, immovable seat, and the perfect coolness 
with which she held the fiery horse. This quite absorbed 
me for five minutes, when she at last broke the silence 
by the laconic inquiry, " Does yourn buck ? " To which 
I added the reply that he had only occasionally been 



THE NEWTYS OF PIKE. 109 

guilty of that indiscretion. She then informed me that 
the first time she had mounted the colt he had " nearly 
bucked her to pieces ; he had jumped and jounced till 
she was plum tuckered out" before he had given up. 
Gradually reining the horses down and inducing them to 
walk, we rode side by side through the most magnificent 
forest of the Sierras, and I determined to probe Susan 
to see whether there were not, even in the most latent 
condition, some germs of the appreciation of nature. I 
looked from base to summit of the magnificent shafts, at 
the green plumes which traced themselves against the 
sky, tlie exquisite fall of purple shadows and golden 
light upon trunks, at the labyrinth of glowing flowers, at 
the sparkling whiteness of the mountain brook, and up to 
the clear matchless blue that vaulted over us, then turned 
to Susan's plain, honest face, and gradually introduced 
the subject of trees. Ideas of lumber and utilitarian 
notions of fence-rails were uppermost in her mind ; but I 
briefly penetrated what proved to be only a superficial 
stratum of the materialistic, and asked her point-blank 
if she did not admire their stately symmetry. A strange, 
new light gleamed in her eye as I described to her the 
growth and distribution of forests, and the marvellous 
change in their character and aspects as they approached 
the tropics. The palm and the pine, as I worked them 
up to her, really filled her with delight, and prompted 
numerous interested and intelligent queries, showing that 
she thoroughly comprehended my drift. 

In the pleasant hour of our chat I learned a new lesson 
of the presence of undeveloped seed in the human mind. 

Mr. ISTewty at last came alongside and remarked that 
he must stop about here ; " but," he added, " Susan will go 
on with you about half a mile, and come back and join 
me here after I have taken a look at the feed." As he 



110 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

rode out into the forest a little way, he called me to him, 
and I was a little puzzled at what seemed to be the first 
traces of embarrassment I had seen in his manner. 

" You '11 take care of yourself, now, won't you ? " he 
asked. I tried to convince him that I would. 

A slight pause. 

" You '11 take care of yourself, won't you ? " 

He might rely on it, I was going to say. 

He added, " Thet — thet — thet man what gits Susan 
has half the hogs ! " 

Then turning promptly away, he spurred the pony, and 
his words as he rode into the forest were, " Take good 
care of yourself ! " 

Susan and I rode on for half a mile, until we reached 
the brow of a long descent, which she gave me to under- 
stand was her limit. 

We shook hands and I bade her good by, and as I 
trotted off these words fell sweetly upon my ear, " Say, 
you '11 take good care of yourself, won't you, say ? " 

I took pains not to overtake my camp-men, wishing to 
be alone ; and as I rode for hour after hour the picture of 
this family stood before me in all its deformity of outline, 
all its poverty of detail, all its darkness of future, and I 
believe I thought of it too gravely to enjoy as I might 
the subtle light of comedy which plays about these hard, 
repulsive figures. 

In conversation I had caught the clew of a better past. 
Newty's father was a New-Englander, and he spoke of 
him as a man of intelligence and, as I should judge, 
of some education. Mrs. Newty's father had been an 
Arkansas judge, not perhaps the most enlightened of men, 
but still very far in advance of herself. The conspicuous 
retrograde seemed to me an example of the most hopeless 
phase of human life. If, as I suppose, we may all sooner 



THE NEWTYS OF PIIiE. Ill 

or later give in our adhesion to the Darwinian view of 
development, does not the same law which permits such 
splendid scope for the hetter open up to us also possible 
gulfs of degradation, and are not these chronic emigrants 
whose broken-down wagons and weary faces greet you 
along the dusty highways of the far West melancholy 
examples of beings who have forever lost the conserva- 
tism of home and the power of improvement ? 



112 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 



VI. 
KAWEAH'S EUN. 

After trying hard to climb Mount Whitney without 
success, and having returned to the plains, I enjoyed my 
two days' rest in hot Visalia, where were fruits and people, 
and where I at length thawed out the last traces of alpine 
cold, and recovered from hard work and the sinful bread 
of my fortnight's campaign. I considered it happiness to 
spend my whole day on the quiet hotel veranda accus- 
toming myself again to such articles as chairs and news- 
papers, and watching with unexpected pleasure the few 
village girls who flitted about during the day, and actu- 
ally found time after sunset to chat with favored fel- 
lows beneath the wide oaks of the street-side. Especially 
interesting seemed the rustic sister of whom I bought figs 
at a garden gate, thinking her, as I did, comme il faut, 
though recollecting later that her gown was of forgotten 
mode, and that she carried a suggestion of ancient history 
in the obsolete style of her back hair. Everybody was of 
interest to me, not excepting the two Mexican moun- 
taineers who monopolized the agent at Wells, Fargo, & 
Co.'s office, causing me delay. They were transacting 
some little item of business, and stood loafing by the 
counter, mechanically jingling huge spurs and shrugging 
their shoulders as they chatted in a dull, sleepy way. 
At the door they paused, keeping up quite a lively dis- 
pute, without apparently noticing me as I drew a small 
bag of gold and put it in my pocket. There was no 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 113 

especial reason why I sliould remark the stolid, brutal 
cast of their countenances, as I thought them not worse 
than the average Californian greaser ; but it occurred to me 
that one might as well guess at a geological formation as 
to attempt to judge the age of mountaineers, because they 
get very early in life a fixed expression, which is deepened 
by continual rough weathering and undisturbed accumu- 
lations of dirt. I observed them enough to see that the 
elder was a man of middle height, of wiry, light figure 
and thin hawk visage ; a certain angular sharpness mak- 
ing itself noticeable about the shoulders and arms, which 
tapered to small almost refined hands. A mere fringe of 
perfectly straight black beard followed the curve of his 
chin, tangling itself at the ear with shaggy unkempt 
locks of hair. He wore an ordinary stiff-brimmed 
Spanish sombrero, and the inevitable greasy red sash 
performed its rather difficult task of holding together 
flannel shirt and buckskin breeches, besides half covering 
with folds a long narrow knife. 

His companion struck me as a half-breed Indian, some- 
where about eighteen years of age, his beardless face 
showing deep brutal lines, and a mouth which was a mere 
crease between hideously heavy lips. Blood stained the 
rowels of his spurs ; an old felt hat, crumpled and 
ragged, slouched forward over his eyes, doing its best to 
hide the man. 

I thought them a hard couple, and summed up their 
traits as stolidity and utter cruelty. 

I was pleased that the stable-man who saddled Kaweah 
was unable to answer their inquiry where I was going, 
and annoyed when I heard the hotel-keeper inform them 
that I started that day for Millerton. 

Leaving behind us people and village, Kaweah bore me 
out under the grateful shade of oaks, among rambling 



114 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

settlements and fields of harvested grain, whose pale 
Naples-yellow stubble and stacks contrasted finely with 
the deep foliage, and served as a pretty groundwork for 
stripes of vivid gTeen which marked the course of num- 
berless irrigating streams. Low cottages, overarched with 
boughs and hemmed in with weed jungles, margined my 
road. I saw at the gate many children who looked me 
out of countenance with their serious, stupid stare ; they 
were the least self-conscious of any human beings I have 
seen. 

Trees and settlements and children were soon behind 
us, an open plain stretching on in front without visi- 
ble limit, — a plain slightly browned with the traces of 
dried herbaceous plants, and unrelieved by other ob- 
ject than distant processions of trees traced from some 
canon gate of the Sierras westward across to the middle 
valley, or occasional bands of restless cattle marching 
solemnly about in search of food. It was not pleasant to 
realize that I had one hundred and twenty miles of this 
lonely sort of landscape ahead of me, nor that my only 
companion was Kaweah ; for with all his splendid powers 
and rare qualities of instinct there was not the slight- 
est evidence of response or affection in his behavior. 
Friendly toleration was the highest gift he bestowed 
on me, though I tliink he had great personal enjoyment 
in my habits as a rider. The only moments that we ever 
seemed thoroughly en rcqiport were when I crowded him 
down to a wild run, using the spur and shouting at him 
loudly, or when in our friendly races homeward toward 
camp, through the forest, I put him at a leap where he 
even doubted his own power. At such times I could 
communicate ideas to him with absolute certainty. He 
would stop, or turn, or gather himself for a leap, at my 
will, as it seemed to me, by some sort of magnetic com- 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 115 

« 

munication ; but I Mways paid dearly for this in long, 

tiresome efforts to calm him. 

With the long level road ahead of me, I dared not 
attack its monotony by any unusual riding, and having 
settled him at our regular travelling trot, — a gait of about 
six miles an hour, — I forgot all about the dreary expanse 
of plain, and gave myself up to quiet revery. About 
dusk we had reached the King's Eiver Ferry. 

An ugly, unpainted house, perched upon the bluff, and 
flanked by barns and outbuildings of disorderly aspect, 
overlooked the ferry. Not a sign of green vegetation 
could be seen, except certain haK-dried willows standing 
knee-deep along the river's margin, and that dark pine 
zone lifted upon the Sierras in eastern distance. 

It is desperate punishment to stay through a summer 
at one of these plain ranches, there to be beat upon by an 
unrelenting sun, in the midst of a scorched landscape, 
and forced to breathe sirocco and sand; yet there are 
found plenty of people who are glad to become master 
of one of these ferries or stage stations, their life for the 
most part silent, and as unvaried as its outlook, given 
over wholly to permanent and vacant loafing. 

Supper was announced by a business-like youth, who 
came out upon the veranda and vigorously rung a tavern 
bell, although I was the only auditor, and, likely enough, 
the only person within twenty miles. 

I envy my horse at such times ; the graminiverous have 
us at a disadvantage, for one revolts at the cuisine, 
although disliking to insult the house by quietly shying 
the food out the window. I arose hungry from the table, 
remembering that some eminent hygeist has avowed that 
by so doing one has achieved sanitary success. \ 

As I walked over to see Kaweali at the corral, I 
glanced down the river, and saw, perhaps a quarter of a 



116 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NTilVADA. 

mile below, two horsemen ride down- our bank, spur their 
horses .into the stream, swim to the other side, and 
struggle up a steep bank, disappearing among bunches 
of Cottonwood trees near the river. 

So dangerous and unusual a proceeding could not have 
been to save the half-dollar ferriage. There was some- 
thing about their seat, and the cruel way they drove 
home their spurs, that, in default of better reasons, made 
me think them Mexicans. 

The whole Tulare plain is the home of nomadic ranch- 
ers, who, as pasturage changes, drive about their herds of 
horses and cattle from range to range ; and as the wolves 
prowl around for prey, so a class of Mexican highwaymen 
rob and murder them from one year's end to the other. 

I judged the swimmers were bent on some such errand, 
and lay down on the ground by Kaweah, to guard him, 
roUing myself in my soldier's great-coat, and slept with 
saddle for a pillow. 

Once or twice the animal waked me up by stamping 
restively, but I could perceive no cause for alarm, and 
slept on comfortably until a little before sunrise, when I 
rose, took a plunge in the river, and hurriedly dressed 
myself for the day's ride ; the ferryman, who had prom- 
ised to put me across the river at dawn, was already at 
his post, and, after permitting Kaweah to drink a deep 
draught, I rode him out on the ferry-boat, and was 
quickly at the other side. 

The road for two or three miles ascends the right bank 
of the river, approaching in places quite closely to the 
edge of its bluffs. I greatly enjoyed my ride, watching 
the Sierra sky-line high and black against a golden circle 
of dawn, and seeing it mirrored faithfully in still reaches 
of river, and pleasing myself with the continually chan- 
ging foreground, as group after group of tall motionless 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 117 

cottonwoods were passed. The wiUows, too, are pleasing 
in their entire harmony with the scene, and the air they 
have of protecting bank and shore from torrent and sun. 
The plain stretched off to my left into dusky distance, 
and ahead, in a bare, smooth expanse, dreary by its 
monotony, yet not altogether repulsive in the pearly ob- 
scurity of the morning. In midsummer these plains are 
as hot as the Sahara through the long blinding day ; but 
after midnight there comes a delicious blandness upon the 
air, a suggestion of freshness and upspringing life, which 
renews vitality within you. 

Kaweah showed the influence of this condition in the 
sensitive play of ears and toss of head, and in his free, 
spirited stride. I was experimenting on his sensitiveness 
to sounds, and had found that his ears turned back at the 
faintest whisper, when suddenly his head rose, he looked 
sharply forward toward a clump of trees on the river- 
bank, one hundred and fifty yards in front of us, where a 
quick glance revealed to me a camp-fire and two men 
hurrying saddles upon their horses, — a gray and a sorrel. 

They were Spaniards, — the same who had swum 
King's River the afternoon before, and, as it flashed on 
me finally, the two whom I had studied so attentively at 
Visalia. Then I at once saw their purpose was to way- 
lay me, and made up my mind to give them a lively run. 
The road followed the bank up to their camp in an 
easterly direction, and then, turning a sharp right angle 
to the north, led out upon the open plain, leaving the 
river finally. 

I decided to strike across, and threw Kaweah into a 
sharp trot. 

I glanced at my girth and then at the bright copper 
upon my pistol, and settled myself firmly in the saddle. 

Finding that they could not saddle quickly enough to 



118 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

attack me mounted, the older villain grabbed a shot-gun, 
and sprung out to head me off, his comrade meantime 
ti^'hteninof the cinches.* 

I turned Kaweah farther off to the left, and tossed him 
a little more rein, which he understood and sprung out 
into a gallop. 

The robber brought his gun to his shoulder, covered 

me, and yelled in good English, " Hold on, you ! " 

At that instant his companion dashed up leading the 
other horse. In another moment they were mounted and 
after me, yelling, " Hu-hla " to the mustangs, plunging in 
the spurs, and shouting occasional volleys of oaths. 

By this time I had regained the road, which lay before 
me traced over the blank objectless plain in vanishing 
perspective. Fifteen miles lay between me and a station ; 
Kaweah and pistol were my only defence, yet at that 
moment I felt a thrill of pleasure, a wild moment of in- 
spiration, almost worth the danger to experience. 

I glanced over my shoulder and found that the 
Spaniards were crowding their horses to the fullest speed ; 
their hoofs rattling on the dry plain were accompanied by 
inarticulate noises, like the cries of bloodhounds. Kaweah 
comprehended the situation. I could feel his grand 
legs gather under me, and the iron muscles contract with 
excitement ; he tugged at the bit, shook his bridle-chains, 
and flung himself impatiently into the air. 

It flashed upon me that perhaps they had confederates 
concealed in some ditch far in advance of me, and that 
the plan was to crowd me through at fullest speed, giving 
up the chase to new men and fresh horses ; and I resolved 
to save Kaweah to the utmost, and only allow him a 
speed which should keep me out of gunshot. So I held 
him firmly, and reserved my spur for the last emergency. 
Still we fairly flew over the plain, and I said to myself. 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 119 

as the clatter of hoofs and din of my pursuers rang in 
my ears now and then, as the freshening breeze hur- 
ried it forward, that, if those brutes got me, there was 
nothing in blood and brains ; for Kaweah was a prince 
beside their mustangs, and I ought to be worth two vil- 
lains. 

For the first twenty minutes the road was hard and 
smooth and level ; after that gentle, shallow undulations 
began, and at last, at brief intervals, were sharp narrow 
arroyos (ditches eight or nine feet w4de). I reined 
Kaweah in, and brought him up sharply on their bot- 
toms, giving him the bit to spring up on the other 
side ; but he quickly taught me better, and, gathering, 
took them easily, without my feeling it in his stride. 

The hot sun had arisen. I saw with anxiety that the 
tremendous speed began to tell painfully on Kaweah. 
Foam tinged with blood fell from his mouth, and sweat 
rolled in streams from his whole body, and now and then 
he drew a deep-heaving breath. I leaned down and felt 
of the cinch to see if it had slipped forward, but, as I had 
saddled him with great care, it kept its true place, so I 
had only to fear the gTeasers behind, or a new relay 
ahead. I was conscious of plenty of reserved speed in 
Kaweah, whose powerful run was already distancing their 
fatigued mustangs. 

As we bounded down a roll of the plain, a cloud of 
dust sprung from a ravine directly in front of me, and 
two black objects lifted themselves in the sand. I drew 
my pistol, cocked it, whirled Kaweah to the left, plunging 
by and clearing them by about six feet ; a thrill of relief 
came as I saw the long white horns of Spanish cattle 
gleam above the dust. 

Unconsciously I restrained Kaweah too much, and in 
a moment the Spaniards were crowding down upon me 



120 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

at a fearful rate. On they came, the crash of their spurs 
and the clatter of their horses distinctly heard ; and as I 
had so often compared the beats of chronometers, I un- 
consciously noted that while Kaweah's, although painful, 
yet came with regidar power, the mustang's respiration 
was quick, spasmodic, and irregular. I compared the in- 
tervals of the two mustangs, and found that one breathed 
better than the other, and then upon counting the best 
mustang with Kaweah, found that he breathed nine 
breaths to Kaweah's seven. In two or three minutes I 
tried it again, finding the relation ten to seven ; then I 
felt the victory, and I yelled to Kaweah. The thin ears 
shot back flat upon his neck ; lower and lower he lay down 
to his run ; I flung him a loose rein, and gave him a 
friendly pat on the withers. It was a glorious burst of 
speed ; the wind rushed by and the plain swept under us 
with dizzying swiftness. I shouted again, and the thing 
of nervous life under me bounded on wilder and faster, 
tin I could feel his spine thrill as with shocks from a 
battery. I managed to look round, — a delicate matter 
at speed, — and saw, far behind, the distanced villains, 
both dismounted, and one horse fallen. 

In an instant I drew Kaweah in to a gentle trot, look- 
ing around every moment, lest they should come on me 
unawares. In a half-mile I reached the station, and I 
was cautiously greeted by a man who sat by the barn 
door, with a rifle across his knees. He had seen me come 
over the plain, and had also seen the Spanish horse fall. 
Not knowing but he might be in league with the robbers, 
I gave him a careful glance before dismounting, and was 
completely reassured by an expression of terror which 
had possession of his countenance. 

I spiung to the ground and threw off the saddle, and 
after a word or two with the man, who proved to be the 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 121 

sole occnpant of this station, we fell to work together 
upon Kaweah, my cocked pistol and his rifle lying close 
at hand. We sponged the creature's mouth, and, throw- 
ing a sheet over him, walked him regularly up and down 
for about three quarters of an hour, and then taking him 
upon the open plain, where we could scan the horizon in 
all directions, gave him a thorough grooming. I never 
saw him look so magnificently as when we led him down 
to the creek to drink ; his skin was like satin, and the 
veins of his head and neck stood out firm and round like 
whip-cords. 

In the excitement of taking care of Kaweah I had 
scarcely paid any attention to my host, but after two 
hours, when the horse was quietly munching his hay, I 
listened attentively to his story. 

The two Spaniards had lurked round his station dur- 
ing the night, guns in hand, and had made an attempt to 
steal a pair of stage-horses from the stable, but, as he had 
watched with his rifle, they finally rode away. 

By his account, I knew them to be my pursuers ; they 
had here, however, ridden two black mustangs, and had 
doubtless changed their mount for the sole purpose of 
waylaying me. 

About eleven o'clock, it being my turn to watch the 
horizon, I saw two horsemen making a long detour round 
the station, disappearing finally in the direction of Mil- 
lerton.' By my glass I could only make out that they 
were men riding in single file on a sorrel and a gray 
horse ; but this, with the fact of the long detour which 
finally brought them back into the road again, convinced 
me that they were my enemies. The uncomfortable prob- 
ability of their raising a band, and returning to make 
sure of my capture, filled me Avith disagreeable foreboding, 
and all day long, wliether my turn at sentinel duty or 



09 



MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEERA NEVADA. 



not, I did little else than range my eye over the valley 
in all directions. 

Twice during the day I led Kaweah out and paced him 
to and fro, for fear his tremendous exertion would cause 
a stiffening of the legs ; but each time he followed close 
to my shoulder with the same firm, proud step, and I 
gloried in him. 

Shortly after dark I determined to mount and push 
forward to Millerton, my friend, the station-man, having 
given me careful directions as to its position ; and I knew 
from the topography of the country, that, by abandoning 
the road and travelling by the stars, I could not widely 
miss my mark ; so at about nine o'clock I saddled up 
Kaweah, and, mounting, bade good by to my friend. 

The air was bland, the heavens cloudless and starlit ; 
in the west a low arch of light out of which had faded 
the last traces of sunset color ; in the east a silver dawn 
shone mild and pure above the Sierras, brightening as the 
light in the west faded, till at last one jetty crag was cut 
upon the disk of rising moon. 

Upon the light gray tone of the plain every object 
might be seen, and as I rode on the memory of danger 
passed aw\ay, leaving me in full enjoyment of companion- 
ship with the hour and with my friend Kaweah, whose 
sturdy, easy stride was in itself a delight. There is a 
charm peculiar to these soft, dewless nights. It seems 
the perfection of darkness in which you get all the rest 
of sleep wliile riding, or lying wide awake on your 
blankets. Now and tlien an object, vague and unrecog- 
nized, loomed out of dusky distance, arresting our atten- 
tion, for Kaweah's quick eye usually found them first : 
dead carcasses of starved cattle, a blanched skull, or 
stump of aged oak, were the only things seen, and we 
gradually got accustomed to these, passing with no more 
than a glance. 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 123 

At last we approached a region of low, rolling sand- 
hills, where Kaweah's tread became muffled, and the 
silence so oppressive as to call out from me a whistle. 
That instrument proved excellent in Traviata solos ; but 
when I attempted some of Chopin, failed so painfully 
that I was glad to be diverted by arriving at the summit 
of the zone of hills, and looking out upon the wide, shal- 
low valley of the San Joaquin, a plain dotted with groves, 
and lighted here and there by open reaches of moonlit 
river. 

I looked up and down, searching for lights which should 
mark MiUerton. I had intended to strike the river above 
the settlement, and should now, if my reckoning was cor- 
rect, be within half a mile of it. 

Eiding down to the river-bank, I dismounted, and al- 
lowed Kaweah to quench his thirst. The cool mountain 
water, fresh from the snow, was delicious to him. He 
drank, stopped to breathe, and drank again and again. I 
allowed him also to feed a half-moment on the grass by 
the river-bank, and then remounting headed down the 
river, and rode slowly along under the shadow of trees, 
following a broad, weU-beaten trail which led, as I be- 
lieved to the village. 

While in a grove of oaks, jingling spurs suddenly 
sounded ahead, and directly I heard voices. I quickly 
turned Kaweah from the trail, and tied him a few rods 
off, behind a thicket, then crawled back into a bunch of 
buckeye bushes, disturbing some small birds, who took 
flight. In a moment two horsemen, talking Spanish, 
neared, and as they passed I recognized their horses and 
then the men. The impulse to try a shot was so strong 
that I got out my revolver, but upon second thought put 
it up. As they rode on into the shadow, the younger, as 
I judged by his voice, broke out in a delicious melody, 



124 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

one of those passionate Spanisli songs with a peculiar 
throbbing cadence, which he emphasized by sharply ring- 
ing his spurs. 

These Californian scoundrels are invariably light- 
hearted ; crime cannot overshadow the exhilaration of 
outdoor life, remorse and gloom are banished like clouds 
before this perennially sunny climate. They make amuse- 
ment out of killing you, and regard a successful plunder- 
ing time as a sort of pleasantry. 

As the soft full tones of my bandit died in distance, I 
went for Kaweah, and rode rapidly westward in the oppo- 
site direction, bringing up soon in the outskirts of Miller- 
ton, just as the last gamblers were closing up their little 
games, and about the time the drunk were conveying one 
another home. Kaweah being stabled, I went to the 
hotel, an excellent and orderly establishment, where a 
colored man of mild manners gave me supper and made 
me at home by gentle conversation, promising at last to 
wake me early, and bidding me good night at my room 
door with the tones of an old friend. I think his sooth- 
ing spirit may partly account for the genuinely profound 
sleep into which I quickly fell, and which held me fast 
bound, until his hand on my shoulder and " Half past 
four, sir," called me back, and renewed the currents of 
consciousness. 

After we had had our breakfast Kaweah and I forded 
the San Joaquin, and I at once left the road, determined 
to follow a mountain trail which led toward Mariposa. 
The trail proved a good one to travel, of smooth, soft sur- 
face, and pleasant in its diversity of ups and downs, and 
with rambling curves which led through open regions of 
brown hills, whose fern and grass were ripened to a com- 
mon yellow-brown, then among park-like slopes, crowned 
with fine oaks, and occasional pine woods, the ground 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 125 

frequently covering itself with clumps of such shrubs 
as chaparral, and the never-enough-admired manzanita. 
Yet I think I never saw such facilities for an ambuscade. 
I imagined the path went out of its way to thread every 
thicket, and the very trees grouped themselves with a 
view to highway robbery. 

I soon, though, got tired looking out for my Spaniards, 
and became assured of having my ride to myself when I 
studied the trail, and found that Kaweah's were the first 
tracks of the day. 

• Eiding thus in the late summer along the Sierra foot- 
hills, one is constantly impressed with the climatic pecu- 
liarities of the region. With us in the East, plant life 
seems to continue until it is at last put out by cold, the 
trees appear to grow till the first frosts ; but in the Sierra 
foot-hills growth and active life culminate in June and 
early July, and then follow long months of warm storm- 
less autumn wherein the hills grow slowly browner, and 
the whole air seems to ripen into a fascinating repose, — 
a rich, dreamy quiet, with distance lost behind pearly 
hazes, v/ith warm tranquil nights, dewless and silent. 
This period is wealthy in yellows and russets and browns, 
in great overhanging masses of oak, whose olive hue is 
warmed into umber depth, in groves of serious pines, red 
of bark, and cool in the dark greenness of their spires. 
Nature wears an aspect of patient waiting for a great 
change ; ripeness, existence beyond the accomplishment 
of the purpose of life, a long, pleasant, painless waiting for 
death, — these are the conditions of the vegetation ; and 
it is vegetation more than the peculiar appearance of the 
air which impresses the strange character of the season. 
It is as if our August should grow rich and ripe, through 
cloudless days and glorious warm nights, on till February, 
and then wake as from sleep, to break out in the bloom 
of May. 



126 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEKRA NEVADA. 

I was delighted to ride thus alone, and expose myself, 
as one uncovers a sensitized photographic plate, to be in- 
fluenced ; for this is a respite from scientific work, when 
through months you hold yourself accountable for seeing 
everything, for analyzing, for instituting perpetual com- 
parison, and as it were sharing in the administering of the 
physical world. JSTo tongue can tell the relief to simply 
withdraw scientific observation, and let Nature impress 
you in the dear old way with all her mystery and glory, 
with those vague indescribable emotions which tremble 
between wonder and sympathy. 

Behind me in distance stretched the sere plain where 
Kaweah's run saved me. To the west, fading out into 
warm blank distance, lay the great valley of San Joaquin, 
into which, descending by sinking curves, were rounded 
hills, with sunny brown slopes softened as to detail by a 
low clinging bank of milky air. Now and then out of 
the haze to the east indistinct rosy peaks; with dull, 
silvery snow-marblings, stood dimly up against the sky, 
and higher yet a few sharp summits lifted into the clearer 
heights seemed hung there floating. Quite in harmony 
with this was the little group of Dutch settlements I 
passed, where an antique-looking man and woman sat 
together on' a veranda sunning their white hair, and 
silently smoking old porcelain pipes. 

ISTor was there any element of incongruity at the 
" rancheria " where I dismounted to rest shortly after 
noon. A few sleepy Indians lay on their backs dream- 
ing ; the good-humored stout squaws, nursing pappooses, 
or lying outstretched upon red blankets. The agreeable 
harmony was not alone from the Indian summer in their 
blood, but in part as well from the features of their dress 
and facial e?dpression. Their clothes, of Caucasian origin, 
quickly fade out into utter barbarism, toning down to 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 127 

warm dirty umbers, never failing to be relieved, here and 
there, by ropes of blue and white beads, or head-band 
and girdle of scarlet cloth. I saw one woman, of splendid 
mould, soundly sleeping upon her back, a blanket cover- 
ing her from the waist down in ample folds, her bare 
body and large full breasts kindled into bronze under 
streaming light ; the arms flung out wide and relaxed ; 
the lips closed with grave compression, and about the 
eyes and full throat an air of deep, eternal sleep. She 
might have been a casting in metal but for the rich hot 
color in her lips and cheeks. 

Toward the late afternoon, trotting down a gentle forest 
slope, I came in sight of a number of ranch buildings 
grouped about a central open space. A small stream 
flowed by the outbuildings, and wound among chaparral- 
covered spurs below. Considerable crops of grain had 
been gathered into a corral, and a number of horses were 
quietly straying about. Yet with all the evidences of 
considerable possessions the whole place had an air of 
suspicious mock-sleepiness. Elding into the open square, 
I saw that one of the buildings was a store, and to this I 
rode, tying Kaweah to the piazza post. 

I thought the whole world slumbered when I beheld 
the sole occupant of this country store, a red-faced man 
in pantaloons and shirt, who lay on his back upon a 
counter fast asleep, the handle of a revolver grasped in 
his right hand. It seemed to me if I were to wake him 
up a little too suddenly he might misunderstand my 
presence and do some accidental damage; so I stepped 
back and poked Kaweah, making him jump and clatter 
his hoofs, and at once the proprietor sprung to the door, 
looking flustered and uneasy. 

I asked him if he could accommodate me for the after- 
noon and night, and take care of my horse ; to which he 



128 MOUXTAINEEPJXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

replied, in a very leisurely manner, that there was a bed, 
and something to eat, and hay, and that if I was inclined 
to take the chances I might stay. 

Being in mind to take the chances, I did stay, and my 
host walked out with me to the corral, and showed me 
where to get Kaweah's hay and grain. 

I loafed about for an hour or two, finding that a 
Chinese cook was the only other human being in sight, 
and then concluded to pump the landlord. A half-hour's 
trial thoroughly disgusted me, and I gave it ujd as a bad 
job. I did, however, learn that he was a man of Southern 
birth, of considerable education, which a brutal life and 
depraved mind had not been able to fully obliterate. He 
seemed to care very little for his business, which indeed 
was small enough, for during the time I spent there not 
a single customer made his appearance. The stock of 
goods I observed on examination to be chiefly fire-arms, 
every mannei; of gambling apparatus, and liquors ; the 
few pieces of stuffs, barrels, and boxes of groceries ap- 
peared to be disposed rather as ornaments than for actual 
sale. 

From each of the man's trousers* pockets protruded 
the handle of a derringer, and behind his counter were 
arranged in convenient position two or three double- 
barrelled shot-guns. 

I remarked to him that he seemed to have a handily 
aiTanged arsenal, at which he regarded me with a cool, 
quiet stare, polished the handle of one of his derringers 
upon his trousers, examined tlie percussion-cap with 
great deliberation, and tlien with a nod of tlie head 
intended to convey great force, said, " You don't live iu 
these parts," — a fact for whicli I felt not unthankful 

The man drank brandy freely and often, and at inter- 
vals of about half an hour called to his side a plethoric 



KAWEAH'S RUN. 129 

old cat named " Gospel," stroked her with nervous rapid- 
ity, swearing at the same time in so distrait and uncon- 
scious a manner that he seemed mechanically talking to 
himself. 

Whoever has travelled on the West Coast has not 
failed to notice the fearful volleys of oaths which the 
oxen-drivers hurl at their teams, but for ingenious flights 
of fancy profanity I have never met the equal of my 
host. With the most perfect good-nature and in un- 
moved continuance he uttered florid blasphemies, which, 
I think, must have taken hours to invent. I was glad, 
when bedtime came, to be relieved of his presence, and 
especially pleased when he took me to the little separate 
building in which was a narrow single bed. Next this 
building on the left was the cook-house and dining- 
room, and upon the right lay his own sleeping apartment. 
Directly across the square, and not more than sixty feet 
off, was the gate of the corral, which creaked on its rusty 
hinges, when moved, in the most dismal manner. 

As I lay apon my bed I could hear Kaweah occa- 
sionally stamp ; the snoring of the Chinaman on one side, 
and the low mumbled conversation of my host and his 
squaw on the other. I felt no inclination to sleep, but 
lay there in half-doze, quite conscious, yet withdrawn 
from the present. 

I think it must have been about eleven o'clock when I 
heard the clatter of a couple of horsemen, who galloped 
up to my host's building and sprang to the ground, their 
Spanish spurs ringing on the stone. I sat up in bed, 
grasped my pistol, and listened. The peach-tree next my 
window rustled. The horses moved about so restlessly 
that I heard but little of the conversation, but that little 
I found of personal interest to myself. 

I give as nearly as I can remember the fragments of 

6* I 



130 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

dialogue between my host and the man whom I recog- 
nized as the older of my two robbers. 

" AYhen did he come ? " 

" Wall, the sun might have been about four hours." 

" Has his horse give out ? " 

I failed to hear the answer, but w^as tempted to shout 
out "No!" 

" Gray coat, buckskin breeches." (My dress.) 

" Going to Mariposa at seven in the morning." 

" I guess I would n't round here." 

A low muttered soliloquy in Spanish wound up with 
a growl. 

" No, Antone, not within a mile of the place. " 'Sta 
buen'." 

Out of the compressed jumble of the final sentence I 
got but the one word, " buckshot." 

The Spaniards mounted and the sound of their spurs 
and horses' hoofs soon died away in the north, and I lay 
for half an hour revolving all sorts of plans. The safest 
course seemed to be to slip out in the darkness and fly 
on foot to the mountains, abandoning my good Kaweah ; 
but I thought of his noble run, and it seemed to me so 
wrong to turn my back on him that I resolved to unite 
our fate. I rose cautiously, and, holding my watch up to 
the moon, found that twelve o'clock had just passed, then 
taking from my pocket a five-dollar gold piece, I laid it 
upon the stand by my bed, and in my stocking feet, with 
my clothes in my liands, started noiselessly for the corral. 
A fierce bull-dog, who had show^n no disposition to make 
friends with me, l^ounded from the open door of the pro- 
prietor to my side. Instead of tearing me, as I had ex- 
pected, he licked my hands and fawned ajjout my feet. 

Eeachiug tlie corral gate, I dreaded opening it at once, 
remembering the rusty hinges, so I hung my clothes upon 



K A WEAR'S RUN. 131 

an upper bar of the fence, and, cautiously lifting the 
latch, began to push back the gate, inch by inch, an 
operation which required me eight or ten minutes ; then 
I walked up to Kaweah and patted him. His manger 
was empty ; he had picked up the last kernel of barley. 
The creature's manner was full of curiosity, as if he had 
never been approached in the night before. Suppressing 
his ordinary whinnying, he preserved a motionless, statue- 
like silence. I was in terror lest by a neigh, or some 
nervous movement, he should waken the sleeping pro- 
prietor and expose my plan. 

The corral and the open square were half covered with 
loose stones, and ^vhen I thouo-ht of tlie clatter of 
Kaweah's shoes I experienced a feeling of trouble, and 
again meditated running otf on foot, until the idea struck 
me of muffling the iron feet. Ordinarily Kaweah would 
not allow me to lift his forefeet at all. The two black- 
smiths who shod him had done so at the peril of their 
lives, and whenever I had attempted to pick up his hind 
feet he had w^arned me away by dangerous stamps ; so I 
approached him very timidly, and was surprised to find 
that he allowed me to lift all four of his feet ^vithout 
the slightest objection. As I stooped down he nosed me 
over, and nibbled playfully at my hat. In constant dread 
lest he should make some noise, I hurried to muffle his 
forefeet with my trousers and shirt, and then, with rather 
more care, to tie upou his hind feet my coat and draw^ers. 

KnoAving nothing of the country ahead of me, and 
fearing that I might again have to run for it, T determined 
at all cost to water him. Groping about the corral and 
barn, and at last finding a bucket, and descending through 
the darkness to the stream, I brought him a full drauglit, 
which he swallowed eagerly, when I tied my shoes on the 
saddle pommel, and led the horse slowly out of the corral 



132 MOUNT AINEEEING IN THE SIEREA NEVADA. 

gate, holding him firmly by the bit, and feeling his ner- 
vous breath pour out upon my hand. 

When we had walked perhaps a quarter of a mile, I 
stopped and listened. All was quiet, the landscape lying 
bright and distinct in full moonlight. I unbound the 
wrappings, shook from them as much dust as possible, 
dressed myseK, and then mounting, started northward on 
the Mariposa trail with cocked pistol. 

In the soft dust we travelled noiselessly for a mile or 
so, passing from open country into groves of oak and 
thickets of chaparral. 

Without warning, I suddenly came upon a smoulder- 
ing fire close by the trail, and in the shadow descried two 
sleeping forms, one stretched on his back snoring heavily, 
the other lying upon his face, pillowing his head upon 
folded arms. 

I held my pistol aimed at one of the wretches, and 
rode by without wakening them, guiding Kaweah in the 
thickest dust. 

It keyed me up to a high pitch. I turned around in 
the saddle, leaving Kaweah to foUow the trail, and kept 
my eyes riveted on the sleeping forms, until they were 
lost in distance, and then I felt safe. 

We galloped over many miles of trail, enjoying a sun- 
rise, and came at last to Mariposa, where I deposited my 
gold, and then went to bed and made up my lost sleep. 



AROUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 133 



VII. 

ABOUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 

Late in the afternoon of October 5, 18G4, a party 
of us readied the edge of Yosemite, and, looking down 
into the valley, saw that the summer haze had been ban- 
ished from the region by autumnal frosts and wind. We 
looked in the gulf through air as clear as a vacuum, dis- 
cerning small objects upon valley-floor and cliff-front. 

That splendid afternoon shadow which divides the face 
of El Capitan was projected fa-r up and across the valley, 
cutting it in halves, — one a mosaic of russets and yellows 
with dark pine and glimpse of w^hite river ; the other a 
cobalt-blue zone, in which the familiar groves and mead- 
ows were suffused with shadow-tones. It is hard to con- 
ceive a more pointed contrast than this same view in 
October and June. Then, through a slumberous yet 
transparent atmosphere, you look down upon emerald 
freshness of green, upon arrowy rush of swoUen river, and 
here and there, along pearly cliffs, as from the clouds, 
tumbles white silver dust of cataracts. The voice of full 
soft winds swells up over rustling leaves, and, pulsating, 
throbs like the beating of far-off surf. All stern sub- 
limity, all geological terribleness, are veiled away behind 
magic curtains of cloud-shadow and broken light. INIisty 
brightness, glow of cliff and sparkle of foam, wealth of 
beautiful details, the charm of pearl and emerald, cool 
gulfs of violet shade stretching back in deep recesses of 
the walls, — these are the features which lie under the 
June sky. 



134 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Now all that has gone. The shattered fronts of walls 
stand out sharp and terrible, sweeping down in broken 
crag and cliff to a valley whereon the shadow of autumnal 
death has left its solemnity. There is no longer an air of 
beauty. In this cold, naked strength, one has crowded on 
him the geological record of mountain work, of granite 
plateau suddenly rent asunder, of the slow, imperfect 
manner in wdiich Nature has vainly striven to smooth her 
rough work and bury the niins with thousands of years' 
accumulation of soil and debris. 

Already late, we hurried to descend the trail, and were 
still following it when darkness overtook us ; but our- 
selves and the animals were so well acquainted with every 
turn, that we found no difficulty in continuing our way to 
Longhurst's house, and here w^e camped for the night. 

By an Act of Congress the Yosemite Valley had been 
segregated from the public domain, and given — "do- 
nated," as they call it — to the State of California, to be 
held inalienable for all time as a public pleasure-ground. 
The Commission into whose hands this trust devolved, 
had sent Mr. Gardner and myself to make a survey de- 
fining the boundaries of the new grant. It was necessary 
to execute this work before the Legislature should meet 
in December, and we undertook the work, knowing very 
well that we must use the utmost haste in order to escape 
a three months' imprisonment, — for in early winter the 
immense Sierra snow-falls would close the doors of 
mountain trails, and we should be unable to reach the 
lowlands until the following spring. 

The party consisted of my companion, Mr. Gardner; 
Mr. Frederick A. Clark, who had been detailed from the 
service of the Mariposa Company to assist us ; Longhurst, 
an habitue of the valley, — a weather-beaten round-the- 
worlder, whose function in the party was to tell yarns, 



AROUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 135 

sing songs, and feed the inner man ; Cotter and Wilmer, 
chainmen ; and two mules, — one who was blind, and the 
other who, I aver, would have discharged his duty very 
much better without eyes. 

We had chosen, as the head-quarters of the survey, 
two little cabins under the pine-trees near Black's Hotel. 
They were central ; they offered us a shelter ; and from 
their doors, which opened almost upon the Merced it- 
self, we obtained a most delightful sunrise view of the 
Yosemite. 

Next morning, in spite of early outcries from Long- 
hurst, and a warning solo of liis performed with spoon 
and fry-pan, we lay in our comfortable blankets pretend- 
ing to enjoy the effect of sunrise light upon the Yosemite 
cliff and fall, all of us unwiUing to own that we were 
tired out and needed rest. Breakfast had waited an hour 
or more when we got a little weary of beds and yielded 
to the temptation of appetite. 

A family of Indians, consisting of two huge girls and 
their parents, sat silently waiting for us to commence, 
and, after we had begun, watched every mouthful from 
the moment we got it successfully impaled upon the 
camp forks, a cloud darkening their faces as it disappeared 
forever down our throats. 

But we quite lost our spectators when Longhurst came 
upon the boards as a flapjack-frier, — a role to which 
he bent his whole intelligence, and with entire success. 
Scorning such vulgar accomplishment as turning the cake 
over in mid-air, he slung it boldly up, turning it three 
times, — ostentatiously greasing the pan with a fine cen- 
trifugal movement, and catching the flapjack as it flut- 
tered down, — and spanked it upon the hot coals with a 
touch at once graceful and masterly. 

I failed to enjoy these products, feeling as if I were 



136 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEREA NEVADA. 

breakfasting in sacrilege upon works of art. ]S'ot so our 
Indian friends, who wrestled affectionately for frequent 
unfortunate cakes which would dodge Longhurst and fall 
into the ashes. 

By night we had climbed to the top of the northern 
wall, camping at the head-waters of a small brook, named 
by emotional ^Ir. Hutchings, I believe, the Virgin's Tears, 
because from time to time from under the brow of a cliff 
just south of El Capitan there may be seen a feeble water- 
fall. I suspect this sentimental pleasantry is intended to 
bear some relation to the Bridal Veil Fall opposite. 
If it has any such force at all, it is a melancholy one, 
given by unusual gauntness and an aged aspect, and by 
the few evanescent tears which this old virgin sheds. 

A charming camp-ground was formed by bands of 
russet meadow wandering in vistas through a stately 
forest of dark green fir-trees unusually feathered to the 
base. Little mahogany-colored pools surrounded with 
sphagnum lay in the meadows, offering pleasant contrast 
of color. Our camp-ground was among clumps of thick 
firs, which completely walled in the fire, and made close 
overhanging shelters for table and beds. 

Gardner, Cotter, and I felt thankful to our thermom- 
eter for owning up frankly the chill of the next morn- 
ing, as we left a generous camp-fire and marched off 
through fir forest and among brown meadows and bare 
ridges of rock toward El Capitan. This grandest of 
granite precipices is capped by a sort of forehead of stone 
sweeping down to level, severe l^rows, which jut out a 
few feet over the edge. A few weather-beaten, battle- 
twisted, and black pines cling in clefts, contrasting in 
force with the solid white stone. 

We hung our barometer upon a stunted tree quite near 
the brink, and, climbing cautiously down, stretched our- 



AROUND YOSE^IITE WALLS. 137 

selves out upon an overhanging "block of granite, and 
looked over into the Yosemite Valley. 

The rock fell under us in one sheer sweep thirty-two 
hundred feet ; upon its face we could trace the lines of 
fracture and all prominent lithological changes. Directly 
beneath, outspread like a delicately tinted chart, lay the 
lovely park of Yosemite, winding in and out about the 
solid white feet of precipices which sunk into it on either 
side; its sunlit surface invaded by the shadow of the 
south wall ; its spires of pine, open expanses of buff and 
drab meadow, and families of umber oaks rising as back- 
ground for the vivid green river-margin and flaming 
orange masses of frosted cottonwood foliage. 

Deep in front the Bridal Veil brook made its way 
through the bottom of an open gorge and plunged off tlie 
edge of a thousaud-foot cliff, falling in white water-dust 
and drifting in pale translucent clouds out over the tree- 
tops of the valley. 

Directly opposite us, and forming the other gate-post 
of the valley's entrance, rose the great mass of Cathe- 
dral Eocks, — a group quite suggestive of the Florence 
Duomo. 

But our grandest view was eastward, above the deep 
sheltered valley and over the tops of those terrible granite 
walls, out upon rolling ridges of stone and wonderful 
granite domes. Nothing in the whole list of irruptive 
products, except volcanoes themselves, is so wonderful as 
these domed mountains. They are of every variety of 
conoidal form, having horizontal sections accurately ellip- 
tical, ovoid, or circular, and profiles varying from such 
semicircles as the cap behind the Sentinel to the grace- 
ful infinite curves of the N"orth Dome. Above and be- 
yond these stretch back long bare ridges connecting with 
sunny summit peaks. 



138 MOUNTAIXEEEIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

The whole region is one sohcl granite mass, with here 
and there shallow soil layers, and a thin variable forest 
which grows in picturesque mode, defining the leading 
lines of erosion as an artist deepens here and there a hne 
to hint at some structural peculiarity. 

A complete physical exposure of the range, from sum- 
mit to base, lay before us. At one extreme stand sharpened 
peaks, white in fretwork of glistening ice-bank, or black 
where tower straight bolts of snowless rock ; at the other 
stretch away plains smiling with a broad honest brown 
under autumn sunlight. They are not quite lovable even 
in distant tranquillity of hue, and just escape being inter- 
esting in spite of their familiar rivers and associated belts 
of oaks. jS'othing can ever render them quite charming, 
for in the startling splendor of flower-clad April you are 
surfeited with an embarrassment of beauty, at all other 
times stunned by their poverty. Not so the summits; 
forever new, full of individuality, rich in detail, and 
coloring themselves anew under every cloud change or 
hue of heaven, they lay you under their spell. 

From them the eye comes back over granite waves and 
domes to the sharp precipice-edges overhanging Yosemite. 
We look down those vast, hard, granite fronts, cracked 
and splintered, scarred and stained, down over gorges 
crammed with debris, or dark with files of climbing pines. 
Lower the precipice-feet are wrapped in meadow and 
grove, and beyond, level and sunlit, lies the floor, — 
that smooth river-cut park, with exquisite perfection 
of finisli. 

The dome-like cap of Capitan is formed of concentric 
layers like the peels of an onion, each one about two or 
three feet thick. Upon the precipice itself, either from 
our station on an overhanging crevice, or from any point 
of opposite cliff or valley bottom, this structure is seen 



AROUND yosemitp: walls. 139 

to be superficial, never descending more than a hundred 
feet. 

In returning to camp we followed a main ridge, smooth 
and Avhite under foot, hut shaded by groves of alpine firs. 
Trees which here reach mature stature, and in apparent 
health, stand rooted in white gravel, resulting from sur- 
face decomposition. I am sure their foliage is darker 
than can be accounted for by effect of white contrasting 
earth. Wherever, in deep depressions, enough wash soil 
and vegetable mould have accumulated, there the trees 
gather in thicker groups, lift themselves higher, spread 
out more and finer feathered branches ; sometimes, how- 
ever, richness of soil and perfection of condition prove 
fatal through overcrowding. They are wonderfully like 
human communities. One may trace in an hour's walk 
nearly all the laws which govern the physical life of 
men. 

Upon reaching camp we found Longhurst in a deep 
religious calm, happy in his mind, happy, too, in the pos- 
ture of his body, which was reclining at ease upon a com- 
fortable blanket-pile before the fire ; a verse of the hymn 
" Coronation " escaped murmurously from his lips, rising 
at times in shaky crescendos, accompanied by a waving 
and desultory movement of the forefinger. He had found 
among our medicines a black bottle of brandy^ contrived 
to induce a mule to break it, and, just to save as much as 
possible while it was leaking, drank with freedom. An- 
ticipating any possible displeasure of ours, Longhurst had 
collected his wits and arrived at a most excellent dinner, 
crowning the repast with a duff, accurately globular, neatly 
brecciated Avith abundant raisins, and drowned with a 
foaming sauce, to which the last of the brandy imparted 
an almost pathetic flavor. 

The evening closed with moral remark and spiritual 



140 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

song from Longliurst, and the morning introduced us to 
our prosaic labor of running the boundary line, — a task 
which consumed several weeks, and occupied nearly all of 
our days. I once or twice found time to go down to the 
cliff-edges agam for the purpose of making my geological 
studies. 

An excursion which Cotter and I made to the top of 
the Three Brothers proved of interest. A half-hour's 
walk from camp, over rolling granite country, brought us 
to a ridge which jutted boldly out from the plateau to the 
edge of the Yosemite wall. Upon the southern side of 
this eminence heads a broad debris-filled ravine, which 
descends to the valley bottom ; upon the other side the 
ridge sends down its waters along a steep declivity into 
a lovely mountain basin, where, surrounded by forest, 
spreads out a level expanse of emerald meadow, with a 
bit of blue lakelet in the midst. The outlet of this little 
valley is through a narrow rift in the rocks leading down 
into the Yosemite fall. Along the crest of our jutting 
ridge we found smooth pathway, and soon reached the 
summit. Here again we were upon the verge of a preci- 
pice, this time four thousand two hundred feet high. 
Beneath us the whole upper half of tlie valley was as 
clearly seen as the southern half had been from Capi- 
tan. The sinuosities of the Merced, those narrow silvery 
gleams which indicated the channel of the Yosemite 
creek, the broad expanse of meadow, and debris trains 
which had bounded down the Sentinel slope, were all 
laid out under us, tliough diminished by immense depth. 

The loftiest and most magnificent parts of the walls 
crowded in a semicircle in front of us ; above them the 
domes, lifted even higher than ourselves, swept down to 
the precipice-edges. Directly to our left we overlooked 
the goblet-like recess into which the Yosemite tumbles, 



AROUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 141 

and could see the white torrent leap through its granite 
lip, disappearing a thousand feet below, hidden from our 
view by projecting crags ; its roar floating up to us, now 
resounding loudly, and again dying off in faint reverbera- 
tions like the sounding of the sea. 

Looking up upon the falls from the valley below, one 
utterly fails to realize the great depth of the semicir- 
cular alcove into which it descends. 

Looking back at El Capitan, its sharp vertical front was 
projected against far blue foot-hills, the creamy whiteness 
of sunlit granite cut upon aerial distance, clouds and 
cold blue sky shutting down over white crest and jetty 
pine-plumes, wdiich gather helmet-like upon its upper 
dome. Perspective effects are marvellously brought out 
by the stern, powerful reality of such rock bodies as 
Capitan. Across their terrible blade-like precipice-edges 
you look on and down over vistas of canon and green 
hill-swells, the dark color of pine and fir broken by bare 
spots of harmonious red or brown, and changing with 
distance into purple, then blue, which reaches on farther 
into the brown monotonous plains. Beyond, where the 
earth's curve defines its horizon, dim serrations of Coast 
Eange loom indistinctly on the hazy air. From here 
those remarkable fracture results, the Eoyal Arches, a 
series of recesses carved into the granite front, beneath 
the N'orth Dome, are seen in their true proportions. 

The concentric structure which covers the dome with a 
series of plates penetrates to a greater depth than usual. 
The Arches themselves are only fractured edges of these 
plates, resulting from the intersection of a cliff-plane 
with the conoidal shells. 

We had seen the Merced group of snow-peaks hereto- 
fore from the west, but now gained a more oblique view, 
which began to bring out the thin obelisk form of Mount 



142 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Clark, a shape of great interest from its marvellous thin- 
ness. Mount Starr King, too, swelled up to its command- 
ing height, the most elevated of the domes. 

Looking in the direction of the Half-Dome, I was con- 
stantly impressed with the inclination of the walls, wdth 
the fact that they are never vertical for any great depth. 
This is observed, too, remarkably, in the case of El Capi- 
tan, whose apparently vertical profile is very slant, the 
actual base standing twelve hundred feet in advance of 
the brow. 

For a week the boundary survey was continued north- 
east and parallel to the cliff wall, about a mile back from 
its brink, following through forests and crossing granite 
spurs until we reached the summit of that high bare 
chain which divides the Virgin's Tears from Yosemite 
Creek, and which, projecting southward, ends in the Three 
Brothers. East of this the declivity falls so rapidly to 
the valley of the upper Yosemite Creek that chaining was 
impossible, and we were obliged to throw our line across 
the canon, a little over a mile, by triangulation. This 
completed, we resumed it on the North Dome spur, trans- 
ferring our camp to a bit of alpine meadow south of the 
Mono trail, and but a short distance from the North 
Dome itself 

After the line was finished here, and a system of tri- 
angles determined by which we connected our northern 
points with those across the chasm of the Yosemite, we 
made several geological excursions along the cliffs, study- 
ing the granite structure, working out its lithological 
changes, and devoting ourselves especially to the system 
of moraines and glacier marks which indicate direction 
and volume of the old ice-flow. 

An excursion to the summit of tlie North Dome was 
exceedingly interesting. From the rear of our camp we 



AEOUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 143 

entered immediately a dense forest of conifers, which 
stretch southward along the summit of the ridge until 
solid granite, arresting erosion, afforded hut Httle foot- 
hold. As usual, among the cracks, and clinging round 
the bases of boulders, a few hardy pines manage to live, 
almost to thrive ; but as we walked groups became scarcer, 
trees less healthy, all at last giving way to bare solid 
stone. The North Dome itself, which is easily reached, 
affords an impressive view up the Illilluette and across 
upon the fissured front of the Half-Dome. It is also one 
of the most interesting specimens of conoidal structure, 
since its mass is not only divided by large spherical shells, 
but each of these is subdivided by a number of lesser 
divisional planes. ITo lithological change is, however, 
noticeable between the different shells. The granite is 
composed chiefly of orthoclase, transparent vitreous 
quartz, and about an equal proportion of black mica and 
hornblende. Here and there adularia occurs, and, very 
sparingly, albite. 

With no difficulty, but some actual danger, I climbed 
down a smooth granite roof-slope to where the precipice 
of Eoyal Arches makes off, and where, lying upon a 
sharp neatly fractured edge, I was able to look down and 
study those purple markings which are vertically striped 
upon so many of these granite cliffs. I found them to 
be bands of lichen growth which follow the curves of 
occasional water-flow. During any great rain-storm, and 
when snow upon the uplands is suddenly melted, innu- 
merable streams, many of them of considerable volume, 
find their way to the precipice-edge, and pour down its 
front. Wlierever this is the case, a deep purple lichen 
spreads itself upon the granite, and forms those dark 
cloudings which add so greatly to the variety and in- 
terest of the cliffs. 



144 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

I found it extremest pleasure to lie there alone on the 
dizzy brink, studying the fine scidpture of cliff and crag, 
overlooking the arrangement of debris piles, and watching 
that slow grand growth of afternoon shadows. Sunset 
found me there, still disinclined to stir, and repaid my 
laziness by a glorious spectacle of color. At this hour 
there is no more splendid contrast of light and shade than 
one sees upon the western gateway itself, — dark-shadowed 
Capitan upon one side profiled against the sunset sky, and 
the yellow mass of Cathedral Eocks rising opposite in full 
light, while the valley is divided equally between sun- 
shine and shade. Pine groves and oaks, almost black 
in the shadow, are brightened up to clear red-browns 
Avhere they pass out upon the lighted plain. The ]\Ierced, 
upon its mirror-like expanses, here reflects deep blue 
from Capitan, and there the warm Cathedral gold. The 
last sunliiiht reflected from some curious smooth surfaces 
upon rocks east of the Sentinel, and about a tliousand 
feet above the valley. I at once suspected them to be 
glacier marks, and booked them for further observation. 

My next excursion was up to Mount Poffinann, among 
a group of snow-fields, whose drainage gathers at last 
through lakes and brooklets to a single brook (the Yosem- 
ite), and flows twelve miles in a broad arc to its plunge 
over into the valley. From the summit, which is of a 
remarkably bedded conoidal mass of gxanite, sharply cut 
down in precipices fronting the north, is obtained a broad 
commanding view of Sierras from afar, by the heads of 
several San Joaquin branches, up to the ragged volcanic 
piles about Silver Mountain. 

From the top I climbed along slopes, and down by a 
"svide detour among frozen snow-banks and many little 
basins of transparent blue water, amid black shapes of 
stunted fir, and over the confused wreck of rock and tree- 



AEOUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 145 

trunk thrown rudely in piles by avalanches whose tracks 
were fresh enough to be of interest. 

Upon reaching the bottom of a broad, open glacier- 
valley, through whose middle flows the Yosemite Creek 
and its branches, I was surprised to find the streams 
nearly all dry ; that the snow itself, under influence of 
cold, was a solid ice mass, and the Yosemite Creek, even 
after I had followed it down for miles, had entirely ceased 
to flow. At intervals the course of the stream was car- 
ried over slopes of glacier-worn granite, ending almost 
uniformly in shallow rock basins, where were considera- 
ble ponds of water, in one or two instances expanding 
to the dignity of lakelets. 

The valley describes an arc whose convexity is in the 
main turned to the west, the stream running nearly due 
west for about four miles, turning gradually to the south- 
ward, and, having crossed the Mono trail, bending again 
to the southeast, after which it discharges over the verge 
of the cliff. An average breadth of this valley is about 
half a mile ; its form a shallow elliptical trough, rendered 
unusually smooth by the erosive action of old glaciers. 
Roches moutonnees break its surface here and there, but in 
general the granite has been planed down into remarka- 
ble smoothness. All along its course a varying rubbish 
of angular boulders has been left by the retiring ice, 
whose material, like that of the whole country, is of gran- 
ite ; but I recognized prominently black sienitic granite 
from the summit of Mount Hoffmann, which, from superior 
hardness, has withstood disintegration, and is perhaps the 
most frequent material of glacier-blocks. The surface 
modelling is often of the most finished type ; especially is 
this the case wherever the granite is highly silicious, its 
polish becoming then as brilliant as a marble mantel. In 
very feldspathic portions, and particularly where ortho- 



146 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

clase predominates, the polished surface becomes a crust, 
usually about three quarters of an inch thick, in which 
the ordinary appearance of the minerals has been some- 
what changed, the rock-surface by long pressure rendered 
extremely dense, and in a measure separated from the 
underlying material. This smooth crust is constantly 
breaking off in broad flakes. The polishing extended up 
the valley sides to a height of about seven hundred feet. 
The average section of the old glacier was perhaps six 
hundred feet thick by half a mile in width. . I followed 
its whole course from Blount Hoffmann down as far as I 
could ride, and then tying my horse only a little way from 
the brink of the cliff I continued downward on foot, walk- 
ing upon the dry stream-bed. I found here and there a 
deep pit-hole, sometimes twenty feet deep, was carved in 
mid-channel, and was often full of water. Just before 
reaching the cliff verge the stream enters a narrow, sharp 
cut about one hundred and twenty feet in depth, and prob- 
ably not over thirty feet wide. The bottom and sides of this 
granite lip, here and there, are evidently glacier-polished, 
but the greater part of the scorings have been worn away 
by the attrition of sands. A peculiar brilliant polish, 
which may be seen there to-day, is wholly the result of 
recent sand friction. 

It was noon when I reached the actual lip, and crept 
with extreme caution down over smooth rounded granite, 
between towering walls, to where the Yosemite Fall 
makes its wonderful leap. Polished rock curved over too 
dangerously for me to lean out and look down over the 
cliff-front itself. A stone gate dazzlingly gilded with sun- 
light formed the frame through which I looked down upon 
that lovely valley. 

Contrast with the strength of yellow rock and severe 
adamantine sculpture threw over the landscape beyond a 



AROUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 147 

strange unreality, a soft aerial depth of purple tone quite 
as new to me as it was beautiful beyond description. 
There, twenty-six hundred feet below, lay meadow and 
river, oak and pine, and a broad shadow-zone cast by the 
opposite wall. Over it all, even through the dark sky 
overhead, there seemed to be poured some absolute color, 
some purple air, liiding details, and veiling with its soft 
amethystine obscurity all that hard, broken roughness of 
the Sentinel cliffs. In this strange, vacant, stone corridor, 
this pathway for the great Yosemite torrent, this sound- 
ing-gallery of thunderous tumult, it was a strange sensa- 
tion to stand, looking in vain for a drop of water, listening 
vainly, too, for the faintest whisper of sound, and I found 
myself constantly expecting some sign of the returning 
flood. 

From the lip I climbed a high point just to the east, 
getting a grand view down the cliff, where a broad purj)le 
band defined the Yosemite spray line. There, too, I found 
unmistakable ice-stripe, showing that the glacier of Mount 
Hoffmann had actually poured over the brink. At the 
moments of such discovery, one cannot help restoring in 
imagination pictures of the past. When we stand by 
river-bank or meadow of that fair valley, looking up at 
the torrent falling bright under fulness of light, and 
lovely in its graceful wind-swayed airiness, we are apt 
to feel its enchantment ; but how immeasurably grander 
must it have been when the gTeat, living, moving glacier, 
with slow invisible motion, crowded its huge body over 
the brink, and launched blue ice-blocks down through 
the foam of the cataract into that gulf of wild rocks and 
eddying mist! 

The one-eyed mule, Bonaparte, I found tied where I 
had left him ; and, as usual, I approached him upon his 
blind side, able thus to get successfully into my saddle, 



148 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

without danger to life or limb. I could never become 
attached to the creature, althoucfh he carried me faith- 
fully many difficult and some dangerous miles, and for 
the reason that he made a pretext of his half-blindness 
to commit excesses, such as crowding me against trees and 
refusing to follow trails. Eealizing how terrible under 
reinforcement of hereditary transmission the peculiarly 
mulish traits would have become, one is more than thank- 
ful to Nature for depriving this singular hybrid of the 
capacity of handing them down. 

Eather tired, and not a little bruised by untimely col- 
lision with trees, I succeeded at last in navigating Bona- 
parte safely to camp, and turning him over to his fellow, 
Pumpkinseed. 

The nights were already very cold, our beds on frozen 
ground none of the most comfortable ; in fact, enthusiasm 
had quite as much to do with our content as the blankets 
or Longhurst's culinary art, which, enclosed now by the 
narrow limit of bacon, bread, and beans, failed to produce 
such dainties as thrice-turned slapjacks or plum-duffs 
of solemnizing memory. 

One more geological trip finished my examination of 
this side of the great valley. It was a two days' ramble 
all over the granite ridges, from the North Dome up to 
Lake Tenaya, during which I gathered ample evidence 
that a broad sheet of glacier, partly derived from Mount 
Hoffmann and in part from the Mount Watkins Ridge 
and Cathedral Peak, but mainly from the great Tuolumne 
glacier, gathered and flowed down into the Yosemite Val- 
ley. Where it moved over the cliffs there are well-pre- 
served scarrings. The facts which attest this are open to 
observation, and seem to me important in making up a 
statement of past conditions. 

We were glad to get back at last to our two little cabins 



AROUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 149 

in the valley, although our serio-comic hangers-on, the 
Diggers, were gone, and the great fall was dry. 

A rest of one day proved refreshing enough for us to 
leave camp and ascend by Mariposa trail to Meadow 
Brook, where we made a bivouac, from which Gardner be- 
gan his southern boundary line, and I renewed my geo- 
logical studies east of Inspiration Point. 

I always go swiftly by this famous point of view now, 
feeling somehow that I don't belong to that army of literary 
travellers who have here planted themselves and burst into 
rhetoric. Here all who make California books, down to 
the last and most sentimental specimen who so much as 
meditates a letter to his or her local paper, dismount and 
inflate. If those firs could recite half the droll mots they 
have listened to, or if I dared tell half the delicious points 
I treasure, it would sound altogether too amusing among 
these dry-enough chapters. 

I had always felt a desire to examine Bridal Veil canon 
and the southwest Cathedral slope. Accordingly one fine 
morning I set out alone, and descended through chaparral 
and over rough debris slopes to the stream, which at this 
time, unlike the other upland brooks, flowed freely, though 
wdth far less volume than in summer. At this altitude 
only such streams as derive their volume w^holly from 
melting snow dry up in the cold autumnal and winter 
months ; spring-fed brooks hold their own, and rather in- 
crease as cold weather advances. 

It was a wild gorge down which I tramped, following 
the stream-bed, often jumping from block to block, or let- 
ting myself down by the chaparral boughs that overhung 
my way. Splendid w^alls on either side rose steep and 
high, for the most part bare, but here and there on shelf 
or crevice bearing clusters of fine conifers, their lower 
slopes one vast wreck of boulders and thicket of chapar- 
ral plants. 



150 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Not without some difficulty I at length got to the 
brink and sat down to rest, looking over at the valley, 
whose meadows were only a thousand feet below ; a cool 
stirring breeze blew up the Merced Canon, swinging the 
lace-like scarf of foam which fell from my feet, and, float- 
ing now against the purple cliff, again blew out gracefully 
to the right or left. While I looked a gust came roam- 
ing around the Cathedral Rocks, impinging against our 
cliff near the fall, and apparently got in betw.een it and 
the cliff, carrying the Avhole column of falling water 
straight out in a streamer through the air. 

I went back to camp by way of the Cathedral Rocks, 
finding much of interest in the conoidal structure, which 
is yet perfectly apparent, and unobscured by erosion or 
the terrible splitting asunder they have suffered. Upon 
a ridge connecting these rocks with the plateaus just 
south there were many instructive and delightful points 
of view, especially the crag just above the Cathedral 
Spires, from which I overlooked a large part of valley 
and cliff, with the two sharp slender minarets of granite 
close beneath me. That great block forming the plateau 
between the Yosemite and Illilluette canons afforded a 
fine field for studying granite, pine, and many remarkably 
characteristic views of the gorge below and peaks beyond. 
From our camp I explored every ravine and climbed each 
eminence, reaching at last, one fine afternoon, the top of 
that singular hemispherical mass, the Sentinel Dome. 
From this point one sweeps the horizon in all directions. 
You stand upon the crest of half a globe, whose smooth 
white sides, bearing here and there • stunted pines, slope 
away regularly in all directions from your feet. Below, 
granite masses, blackened here and there with densely 
clustered forest, stretch tlirouG[h varied undulations to- 
ward you. At a little distance from the foot of the Half- 



AROUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 151 

Dome, trees held upon sharp brinks and precipices plunge 
off into Yosemite upon one side, and the dark rocky 
canon of Illilluette upon the other. Eastward, soaring 
into clouds, stands the thin vertical mass of the Half- 
Dome. 

From this view the snowy peak of the Obelisk, flat- 
tened into broad dome-like outline, rises, shutting out the 
more distant Sierra summits. This peak, from its pecu- 
liar position and thin tower-like form, offers one of the 
most tempting summits of the region. From that slender 
top one might look into the Yosemite, and into that basin 
of ice and granite between the Merced and Mount Lyell 
groups. I had longed for it through the last month's 
campaign, and now made up my mind, with this inspiring 
view, to attempt it at all hazards. 

A little way to the east, and about a thousand feet below 
the brink of the Glacier Point, the crags appeared to me 
particularly tempting ; so in the late afternoon I descended, 
walking over a rough, gritty surface of granite, which gave 
me secure foothold. Upon the very edge the immense 
splintered blocks lay piled one upon another ; here a mass 
jutting out and overhanging upon the edge, and here a 
huge slab pointed out like a barbette gun. I crawled out 
upon of one these projecting blocks and rested myself, 
while studying the view. 

From here the one very remarkable object is the Half- 
Dome. You see it now edgewise and in sharp profile, the 
upper half of the conoid fronting the north with a sharp, 
sheer fracture-face of about two thousand feet vertical. 
From the top of this a most graceful helmet curve sweeps 
over to the south, and descends almost perpendicularly into 
the valley of the Little Yosemite ; and here from the foot 
springs up the block of Mount Broderick, — a single, rough- 
hewn pyramid, three thousand feet from summit to base, 



152 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

trimmed upon its crest, with a few pines, and spreading 
out its southern base into a precipice, over which plunges 
the white Nevada torrent. Observation had taught me 
that a glacier flowed over the Yosemite brink. As I 
looked over now I could see its shallow valley, and the 
ever-rounded rocks over which it crowded itself and tum- 
bled into the icy valley below. Up the Yosemite gorge, 
which opened straight before me, I knew that another 
great glacier had flowed ; and also that the valley of the 
Illilluette and the Little Yosemite had been the bed of 
rivers of ice; a study, too, of the markings upon the 
glacier cliff above Hutchings's house, had convinced me 
that a glacier no less than a thousand feet deep had 
.flowed through the valley, occupying its entire bottom. 

It was impossible for me, as I sat perched upon this 
jutting rock mass, in full view of all the canons which 
had led into this wonderful converging system of ice- 
rivers, not to imagine a picture of the glacier period. 
Bare or snow-laden cliffs overhung the gulf; streams of 
ice, here smooth and compacted into a white plain, there 
riven into innumerable crevasses, or tossed into forms 
like the waves of a tempest-lashed sea, crawled through 
all the gorges. Torrents of water and avalanches of rock 
and snow spouted at intervals all along the cliff walls. 
Not a tree nor a vestige of life was in sight, except far 
away upon ridges below, or out upon the dimly expanding 
plain. Granite and ice and snow, silence broken only by 
the howling tempest and the crash of falUng ice or splin- 
tered rock, and a sky deep freighted with cloud and 
storm, — these were the elements of a period which lasted 
immeasurably long, and only in comparatively the most 
recent geological times have given way to the present mar- 
vellously changed condition. Nature in her present as- 
pects, as well as in the records of her past, here constantly 



ABOUND YOSEMITE WALLS. 153 

offers the most vivid and terrible contrasts. Can any- 
thing be more wonderfully opposite than that period of 
leaden sky, gray granite, and desolate stretches of white, 
and the present, when of the old order we have only left 
the solid framework of granite, and the indelible inscrip- 
tions of glacier work ? To-day their burnished pathways 
are legibly traced with the history of the past. Every 
ice-stream is represented by a feeble river, every great 
glacier cascade by a torrent of white foam dashing itself 
down rugged walls, or spouting from the brinks of upright 
cliffs. The very avalanche tracks are darkened by clus- 
tered woods, and over the level pathway of the great 
Yosemite glacier itself is spread a park of green, a mo- 
saic of forest, a thread of river. 



7* 



154 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 



VIII. 

A SIEEPvA STOEM. 

From every commanding eminence around the Yosemite 
no distant object rises with more inspiring greatness than 
the Obelisk of Mount Clark. Seen from the west it is a 
high isolated peak, having a dome-like outline very much 
flattened upon its west side, the precipice sinking deeply 
down to an old glacier ravine. From the north this peak 
is a slender single needle, jutting two thousand feet from 
a rough-hewn pedestal of rocks and snow-fields. Forest- 
covered heights rise to its base from east and west. To 
the south it falls into a deep saddle, which rises again, 
after a level outline of a mile, sweeping up in another 
noble granite peak. On the north the spur drops abruptly 
down, overhanging an edge of the great Pierced gorge, its 
base buried beneath an accumulation of morainal matter 
deposited by ancient Merced glaciers. From the region 
of Mount Hoffmann looming in most impressive isolation, 
its slender needle-like summit had long fired us Avith am- 
bition ; and having finished my agreeable climb round the 
Yosemite walls, I concluded to visit the mountain with 
Cotter, and, if the weather should permit, to attempt 
a climb. We packed our two mules with a week's pro- 
visions and a single blanket each, and on the 10th of 
November left our friends at the head-quarters' camp in 
Yosemite Valley and rode out upon the Mariposa trail, 
reaching the plateau by noon. Having passed Meadow 
Brook, we left the path and bore off in the direction of 



A SIERRA STORM. 155 

Mount Clark, spending the afternoon in riding over granite 
ridges and open stretches of frozen meadow, where the 
ground was all hard, and grass entirely cropped off by 
numerous herds of sheep that had ranged here during 
summer. The whole earth was bare, and rang under our 
mules' hoofs almost as clearly as the granite itself. 

We camped for the night on one of the most eastern 
affluents of Bridal Veil Creek, and were careful to fill our 
canteens before the bitter night-chill should freeze it over. 
By our camp was a pile of pine logs swept together by 
some former tempest ; we lighted them, and were quickly 
saluted by a magnificent bonfire. The animals were tied 
within its ring of warmth, and our beds laid where the 
rain of sparks could not reach. As we were just going 
to sleep, our mules pricked up their ears and looked into 
the forest. We sprang to our feet, picked up our pistols, 
expecting an Indian or a grizzly, but were surprised to see, 
riding out of the darkness, a lonely mountaineer, mounted 
upon a little mustang, carrying his long rifle across the 
saddle-bow. He came directly to our camp-fire, and, with- 
out uttering a word, slowly and with great effort swung 
himself out of his saddle and walked close to the flames, 
leaving his horse, who remained motionless, where he 
had reined him in. I saw that the man was nearly frozen 
to death, and immediately threw my blanket over his 
shoulders. The water in our camp kettle was still hot, 
and Cotter made haste to draw a pot of tea, while I 
broiled a slice of beef and pressed him to eat. He, 
however, shook iiis head and maintained a persistent 
silence, until at length, after turning round and round 
until I could have thouglit him done to a turn, in a very 
feeble, broken voice he ejaculated, " I was pretty near gone 
in, stranger!" Again I pressed him to drink a cup of 
tea, but he feebly answered, " Not yet." After roasting 



156 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

for half an hour, in which I fully expected to see his 
coat-tail smoke, he sat down and drank about two quarts 
of tea. This had the effect of thawing him out, and he 
remembered that his horse was still saddled and very- 
hungry. He told us that neither he nor the animal had 
had anything to eat for three days, and that he was push- 
ing hopelessly westward, expecting either the giving out 
of his horse, or death by freezing. We took the saddle 
from his tired little mustang, spread the saddle-blanket 
over his back, and from the scanty supply of grain we 
had brought for our own animals gave him a tolerable 
supper. It is wonderful how in hours of danger and pri- 
vation the horse clings to his human friend. Perfectly 
tame, perfectly trusting, he throws the responsibility of 
his care and life upon his rider ; and it is not the least 
pathetic among our mountain experiences to see this 
patient confidence continue until death. Observing that 
the logs were likely to burn freely all night, we divided 
our blankets with the mountaineer, and Cotter and -I 
turned in together. In the morning our new friend had 
entirely recovered from his numb, stupid condition. 
Recognizing at a glance his whereabouts, and thanking 
us feeliugly for our rough hospitality, he headed toward 
the Mariposa trail, with quite an affecting good-by. 

After breakfast we ourselves mounted and rode up a long 
forest-covered spur leading to the summit of a granite di- 
vide, which we crossed at a narrow pass between two abrupt 
cliffs, and descended its eastern slope in full view of the 
whole Merced group. This long abrupt descent in front 
of us led to the Illilluette Creek, and directly opposite on 
the other side of the trough-like valley rose the high 
sharp summit of Llount Clark. We were all day in 
crossing and riding up the crest of a sharply curved 
medial moraine which traced itself from the mountain 



A SIERRA STORM. 157 

south of Mount Clark in a long parabolic curve, dying 
out at last in the bottom of the lililluette basin. The 
moraine was one of the most perfect I have ever seen ; 
its smooth graded summit rose as regularly as a railway 
embankment, and seemed to be formed altogether of 
irregular boulders piled securely together and cemented 
by a thick deposit of granitic glacier-dust. Late in the 
afternoon we had reached its head, where the two con- 
verging glaciers of Mount Clark and Mount Kyle had 
joined, clasping a rugged promontory of granite. To our 
left, in a depression of the forest-covered basin, lay a little 
patch of meadow wholly surrounded by dense groups of 
alpine trees, which grew in clusters of five and six, ap- 
parently from one root. A little stream from the Obelisk 
snows fell in a series of shallow cascades by the meadow's 
margin. We jumped across the brook and went into 
camp, tethering the mules close by ns. One of the great 
charms of high mountain camps is their very domestic 
nature. Your animals are picketed close by the kitchen, 
your beds are between the two, and the water and the 
wood are always in most comfortable apposition. 

For the first time in many months a mild moist wind 
sprang up from the south, and with it came slowly creep- 
ing over the sky a dull, leaden bank of ominous-looking 
cloud. Since April we had had no storm. The per- 
petually cloudless sky had banished all thought, almost 
memory, of foul weather ; but winter tempests had already 
held off remarkably, and we knew that at any moment 
they might set in, and in twenty-four hours render the 
plateaus impassable. It was with some anxiety that I 
closed my eyes that night, and, sleeping lightly, often 
T/oke as a freshening wind moved the pines. At dawn we 
were up, and observed that a dark heavy mass of storm- 
cloud covered the whole sky, and had settled down over 



158 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

the Obelisk, wrapping even the snow-fields at its base in 
gray folds. The entire peak was lost, except now and 
then, when the torn vapors parted for a few moments and 
disclosed its sharp summit, whitened by new-fallen snow. 
A strange moan filled the air: The winds howled piti- 
lessly over the rocks, and swept in deafening blasts 
through the pines. It was my duty to saddle up directly 
and flee for the Yosemite, but I am naturally an opti- 
mist, a sort of geological Micawber, so I dodged my duty, 
and determined to give the weather every opportunity 
for a clear-off. Accordingly we remained in camp all day, 
studying the minerals of the granite as the thickly strewn 
boulders gave us material. At nightfall I climbed a little 
rise back of our meadow, and looked out over the basin of 
lUilluette, and up in the direction of the Obelisk. Now 
and then the parting clouds opened a glimpse of the 
mountain, and occasionally an unusual blast of wind 
blew away the deeply settled vapors from the canon to 
westward ; but each time they closed in more threaten- 
ingly, and before I descended to camp the whole land 
was obscured in the cloud which settled densely down. 

The mules had made themselves comfortable with a re- 
past of rich mountain grasses, which, though slightly frost- 
ed, still retained much of their original juice and nutriment. 
We ourselves made a deep inroad on the supply of pro- 
visions, and, after chatting awhile by the firelight, went to 
bed, taking the precaution to pile our effects carefully to- 
gether, covering them with an india-rubber blanket. Our 
bivouac was in the middle of a cluster of firs, quite well 
protected overhead, but open to the sudden gusts which 
blew roughly hither and thither. By nine o'clock wind 
died away altogether, and in a few moments a thick cloud 
of snow was falKng. We had gone to bed together, pulled 
the blankets as a cover over our heads, and in a few 



A SIERRA STORM. 159 

moments fell into a heavy sleep. Once or twice in the 
night I woke with a slight sense of suffocation, and cau- 
tiously lifted the blanket over my head, but each time 
found it growing heavier and heavier with- a freight of 
snow^ In the morning we aw^oke quite early, and, push- 
ing back the blanket, found that we had been covered by 
about a foot and a half of snow. The poor mules had 
approached us to the limit of their rope, and stood within 
a few feet of our beds, anxiously waiting our first signs 
of life. 

We hurried to breakfast, and hastily putting on the 
saddles, and wrapping ourselves from head to foot in 
our blankets, mounted, and started for the crest of the 
moraine. I had taken the precaution to make a little 
sketch-map in my note-book, with the compass directions 
of our march from the Yosemite, and we had now the diffi- 
cult task of retracing our steps in a storm so blinding and 
fierce that we could never see more than a rod in advance. 
But for the regular form of the moraine, with whose 
curve we were already familiar, I fear we must have lost 
our way in the real labyrinth of glaciated rocks which 
covered the whole lUilluette basin. Snow blew in every 
direction, filling our eyes and blinding the poor mules, who 
often turned quickly from some sudden gust, and refused 
to go on. It was a cruel necessity, but we spurred them 
inexorably forw^ard, guiding them to the right and left to 
avoid rocks and trees which, in their blindness, they were 
constantly threatening to strike. Warmly rolled in our 
blankets, we suffered little from cold, but the driving sleet 
and hail very soon bruised our cheeks and eyelids most 
painfully. It required real effort of will to face the 
storm, and we very soon learned to take turns in breaking 
trail. The snow constantly balled upon our animals' feet, 
and they slid in every direction. Now and then, in de- 



160 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

scending a sharp slope of granite, the poor creatures 
would get sliding, and rush to the bottom, their legs stiff- 
ened out, and their heads thrust forward in fear. After 
crossing^ the Illilluette, which we did at our old ford, we 
found it very difficult to climb the long steep hillside ; for 
the mules were quite unable to carry us, obliging us to 
lead them, and to throw ourselves upon the snow-drifts to 
break a pathway. 

This slope almost wore us out, and when at last we 
reached its summit we threw ourselves upon the snow for 
a rest, but were in such a profuse perspiration that I 
deemed it unsafe to lie there for a moment, and, getting 
up again, we mounted the mules and rode slowly on to- 
ward open plateaus near great meadows. The snow 
gradually decreased in depth as we descended upon the 
plain directly south of the Yosemite. The wind abated 
somewhat, and there were only occasional slow flurries 
between half-hours of tolerable comfort. Constant use 
of the compass and reference to my little map at length 
brought us to the Mariposa trail, but not until after eight 
hours of anxious, exhaustive labor, — anxious from the 
constant dread of losing our way in the blinding con- 
fusion of storm ; exhausting, for we had more than half 
of the way acted as trail-breakers, dragging our frightened 
and tired brutes after us. The poor creatures instantly 
recognized the trail, and started in a brisk trot toward 
Inspiration Point. Suddenly an icy wind swept up the 
valley, carrying with it a storm of snow and hail. The 
wind blew with such violence that the whole freight of 
sleet and ice was carried horizontally with fearful swift- 
ness, cutting the bruised faces of the mules, and giving 
our own eyelids exquisite torture. The brutes refused to 
carry us farther. We were obliged to dismount and drive 
them before us, beating them constantly with clubs. 



A SIERRA STORM. 161 

Figliting our way against this bitter blast, half blinded 
by hard, wind-driven snow-crystals, we at last gave up 
and took refuge in a dense clump of firs which crown the 
spur by Inspiration Point. Our poor mules cowered under 
shelter with us, and turned tail to the storm. The fir- 
trees were solid cones of snow, which now and then un- 
loaded themselves when severely bent by a sudden gust, 
half burying us in dry white powder. Wind roared below 
us in the Yosemite gorge ; it blew from the west, rolling 
up in waves which smote the cliffs, and surged on up the 
valley. While we sat stiU the drifts began to pile up at 
our backs ; the mules were belly-deep, and our situation 
began to be serious. 

Looking over the cliff-brink we saw but the hurrying 
snow, and only heard a confused tumult of wind. A 
steady increase in the severity of the gale made us fear 
that the trees might crash down over us ; so we left the 
mules and crept cautiously over the edge of the cliff, and 
ensconced ourselves in a sheltered nook, protected by walls 
of rock which rose at our back. 

We were on the brink of the Yosemite, and but for 
snow might have looked down three thousand feet. The 
storm eddied below us, sucking down whirlwinds of snow, 
and sometimes opening deep rifts, — never enough, how- 
ever, to disclose more than a few hundred feet of cliffs. 

We had been in this position about an hour, half 
frozen and soaked through, when I at length gathered 
conscience enough to climb back and take a look at our 
brutes. The forlorn pair were frosted over with a thick 
coating, their pitiful eyes staring eagerly at me. I had 
half a mind to turn them loose, but, considering that their 
obstinate nature might lead them back to our Obelisk 
camp, I patted their noses, and climbed back to the 
shelf by Cotter, determined to try it for a quarter of an 



162 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

hoiir more, when, if the tempest did not kill, I thought 
we must press on and face the sru3w for an hour more, 
while we tramped down to the valley. 

Suddenly there came a lull in the storm ; its blinding 
fury of snow and wind ceased. Overhead, still hurrying 
eastward, the white bank drove on, unveiling, as it fled, 
the Yosemite walls, plateau, and every object to the east- 
ward as far as Mount Clark. As yet the valley bottom 
was obscured by a layer of mist and cloud, which rose to 
the height of about a thousand feet, submerging cliff-foot 
and debris pile. Between these strata, the cloud above 
and the cloud below, every object was in clear, distinct 
view ; the sharp terrible fronts of precipices, capped with 
a fresh cover of white, plunged down into the still, gray 
river of cloud below, their stony surfaces clouded with 
purple, salmon-color, and bandings of brown, — all hues 
unnoticeable in every -day lights. Forest, and crag, and 
plateau, and distant mountain were snow-covered to a 
uniform whiteness ; only the dark gorge beneath us 
showed the least traces of color. There all was rich, 
deep, gloomy. Even over the snowy surfaces above there 
prevailed an almost ashen grey, which reflected itself 
from the dull, drifting sky. A few torn locks of vapor 
poured over the cliff-edge at intervals, and crawled down 
like wreaths of smoke, floating gracefully and losing them- 
selves at last in the bank of cloud wliich lay upon the 
bottom of the valley. 

On a sudden the whole gray roof rolled away like a 
scroll, leaving the heavens from west to far east one 
expanse of pure, warm blue. Setting sunlight smote full 
upon the stony walls below, and shot over the plateau 
country, gilding here a snowy forest group, an4 there a 
wave-crest of whitened ridge. The whole air sparkled 
with diamond particles ; red light streamed in through 



A SIERRA STORM. 163 

the open Yosemite gateway, brightening those vast, solemn 
faces of stone, and intensifying the deep neutral blue of 
shadowed alcoves. 

The luminous cloud-bank in the east rolled from the 
last Sierra crest, leaving the whole chain of peaks in 
broad light, each rocky crest strongly red, the newly 
fallen snow marbling them over with a soft, deep rose ; 
and, w^herever a canon carved itself down their rocky 
fronts, its course was traceable by a shadowy band of 
blue. The middle distance glowed with a tint of golden 
yellow; the broken heights along the canon-brinks and 
edges of the cliff in front were of an intense spotless 
white. Far below us the cloud stratum melted away, 
revealing the floor of the valley, whose russet and emerald 
and brown and red burned in the broad evening sun. It 
was a marvellous piece of contrasted lights, — the distance 
so pure, so soft in its rosy warmth, so cool in the depth 
of its shadowy blue; the foreground strong in fiery 
orange, or sparkling in absolute whiteness. I enjoyed, 
too, looking up at the pure unclouded sky, which now 
wore an aspect of intense serenity. For half an hour 
nature seemed in entire repose ; not a breath of wind 
stirred the white snow-laden shafts of the trees ; not a 
sound of animate creature, or the most distant rever- 
beration of waterfall reached us ; no film of vapor moved 
across the tranquil sapphire sky ; absolute quiet reigned 
until a loud roar proceeding from Capitan turned our 
eyes in that direction. From the round, dome-like cap 
of its summit there moved down an avalanche, gathering 
volume and swiftness as it rushed to the brink, and then, 
leaping out two or three hundred feet into space, fell, 
slowly filtering down through the lighted air, like a silver 
clou.d, until within a thousand feet of the earth it floated 
into the shadow of the cliff and sank to the ground as a 



164 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

faint blue mist. Next tlie Cathedral snow poured from 
its lighted summit in resounding avalanches; then the 
Three Brothers shot off their loads, and afar from the east 
a deep roar reached us as the whole snow-cover thundered 
down the flank of Cloud's Eest. 

We were warned by the hour to make all haste, and, 
driving the poor brutes before us, made our way down 
the trail as fast as possible. The light, already pale, left 
the distant heights in still more glorious contrast. A 
zone of amber sky rose beliind the glowing peaks, and 
a cold, steel-blue plain of snow skirted their bases. Mist 
slowly gathered again in the gorge below us and over- 
spread the valley floor, shutting it out from our view. 

We ran down the zigzag trail until we came to that 
shelf of bare granite immediately below the final descent 
into the valley. Here we paused just above the surface 
of the clouds, which, swept by fitful breezes, rose in 
swells, floating up and sinking again like waves of the 
sea. Intense light, more glowing than ever, streamed in 
upon the upper half of the cliffs, their bases sunken in 
the purple mist. As the cloud-waves crawled upward 
in the breeze, they here and there touched a red-purple 
light and fell back again into the shadow. 

We watched these effects with greatest interest, and, 
just as we were about moving on again, a loud burst as 
of heavy thunder arrested us, sounding as if the very 
walls were crashing in. We looked, and from the whole 
brow of Capitan rushed over, one huge avalanche, breaking 
into the finest powder and floating down through orange 
light, disappearing in the sea of purple cloud beneath us. 

We soon mounted and pressed up the valley to our 
camp, where our anxious friends greeted us with enthu-' 
siastic welcome and never-to-be-forgotten beans. We fed 
our exhausted animals a full ration 6f barley, and turned 



A SIERRA STORM. 165 

them out to shelter themselves as best they might under 
friendly oaks or among young pines. In anticipation 
of our return the party had gotten up a capital sup- 
per, to which we first administered justice, then pun- 
ishment, and finally annihilation. Brief starvation and 
a healthy combat for life with the elements lent a most 
marvellous zest to the appetite. Under the subtle in- 
fluences of a free circulation and a stinging cold night, 
I perceived a region of the taste which answers to 
those most refined blue waves of the spectrum. Clouds 
which had infolded the heavens rolled off to the east in 
torn fillets of gold. The stars came out full and flashing 
in the darkling sky of evening. We left our cabins and 
grouped ourselves around a loquacious camp-fire, which 
prattled incessantly and distilled volumes of that mild 
stimulant, pyroligneous acid, — an ill-savored gas which 
seems to have inspired much domestic poetry, however 
it may have aff'ected the New England olfactory nerves. 

The vast valley walls, light in contrast with the deep 
nocturnal violet heavens, rose far into the night, appar- 
ently holding up a roof of stars whose brilliancy faded 
quite rapidly, until finally the last blinking points of 
light died out, and cold, hard gray stretched from cliff to 
cliff. Far up canons and in the heart of the mountains 
we could hear terrible tempest gusts crashing among the 
trees, and breaking in deep, long surges against faces of 
granite ; coming nearer and nearer, they swept down the 
gorges, with volume increasing every moment, until they 
poured into the upper end of the valley and fell upon its 
groves with terrible fury. The wind shrieked wild and 
high among the summit crags, it tore through the pine- 
belts, and now and then a sudden sharp crash resounded 
through the valley as, one after another, old infirm pines 
were hurled down before its blast. The very walls seemed 



166 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

to tremble ; the air was thick with flying leaves and dead 
branches; the snow of the summits, hard frozen by a sudden 
chill, was blown from the walls and filled the air with its 
keen cutting crystals. At last the very clouds, torn into 
wild flocks, were swept down into the valley, filling it 
with opaque hurrying vapors. Eocks loosening them- 
selves from the plateau came thundering down precipice- 
faces, crashing upon debris piles and forest groups below. 
Sleet and snow and rain fell fast, and tlie boom of falling 
trees and crashing avalanches followed one another in an 
almost uninterrupted roar. In the Sentinel gorge, back 
of our camp, an avalanche of rock suddenly let loose and 
came down with a harsh rattle, the boulders bounding 
over debris piles and crashing through the trees by our 
camp. A vivid belt of blue lightning flashed down 
through the blackness, and for a moment every outline 
of cliff and forest forms, and the rushing clouds of snow 
and sleet, were lighted up with a cold pallid gleam. The 
burst of thunder which followed rolled but for a moment, 
and was silenced by the furious storm. In the moment 
of lightning I saw that the Yosemite Fall, which had 
been dry for a month, had suddenly sprung into life 
again. Vast volumes of water and ice were pouring over 
and beating like sea- waves upon the granite below. Our 
mules came up to the cabin, and stood on its lee side 
trembling, and uttering suppressed moans. After hours 
the fitfulness of the tempest passed away, leaving a grand 
monotonous roar. It had torn off all the rotten branches 
of the year, and prostrated every decrepit tree, and at last 
settled down to a continuous gale, laden with torrents of 
rain. We laid down upon our bunks in our clothes, 
watching and listening through all the first hours of the 
night. Sleep was impossible ; angry winds and the fury 
of drifting rain shook our little shelters, and kept us wide 



A SIERRA STORM. 167" 

awake. Toward morning a second thunder-storm burst, 
and by the light of its flashes I saw that the river had 
risen nearly to our cabin door, covering the broad valley 
in front of us with a sheet of flood. Gradually the sound 
of Yosemite Fall grew louder and stronger, the throbs, as 
it beat upon the rocks, rising higher and higher till the 
whole valley rung with its pulsations. By dawn the 
storm had spent its fury, rain ceased, and around us 
the air was perfectly still; but aloft, among cliffs and 
walls, it might still be heard sweeping across the forest 
and tearing itself among granite needles. Fearing that 
so continuous a storm might block up our mountain trails, 
Hyde and Cotter and Wilmer, with instruments and pack- 
animals, started early and went out to Clark's Eanch. 

So dense and impenetrable a fog overhung us, that day- 
light came with extreme slowness ; and it was nine o'clock 
before we rose for breakfast, and at ten a gloomy sea of 
mist still hung over the valley. The Merced had over- 
flowed its banks and ran wild. Toward noon the mist 
began to draw down the valley, and finally all drifted 
away, leaving us shut in by a gray canopy of cloud which 
stretched from wall to wall, hanging down here and there 
in deep blue sags. In this stratum of gray were lost 
many higher summits, but the whole form of valley and 
cliff could be seen with terrible distinctness, the walls 
apparently drawn together, their bases at one or two 
points pushed into yellow floods of water which lay like 
lakes upon the level expanse. The whole lip of Yosemite 
was filled to the brim, and through it there poured a 
broad full torrent of white. Shortly after noon a few 
rifts opened overhead, showing a far sky, from which 
poured gushes of strong yellow sunlight, touching here 
and there upon sombre faces of cliff, and occasionally 
gilding the falling torrent. A wind still blew, smiting 



168 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

the Yosemite precipice, and playing strangest games with 
the fall itself. At one time a gust rushed upon the lip 
of the fall with such violence as to dam back all its 
waters. We could see its white pile in the lip mounting 
higher and higher, still held back by the wind, until there 
must have been a front of from a hundred and fifty to two 
hundred feet of boiling white water. For a whole minute 
not a drop poured down the wall ; but, gathering strength, 
the torrent overcame the wind, rushed out with tremen- 
dous violence, leaped one himdred and fifty feet straight 
out into air, and fell clear to the rocks below, dasliing 
high and white again, and breaking into a cloud of spray 
that filled the lower air of the valley for a mile. 

While the water was held back in the gorge there was 
a moment of complete silence, but when it finally burst 
out again a crash as of sudden thunder shook the air. 
At times gusts of wind would drive upon the Three 
Brothers cliff, and be deflected toward the Yosemite, 
swinging the whole mighty cataract like a pendulum; 
and again, pouring upon the rocks at the bottom of the 
valley, it would gather up the whole fall in mid-air, whirl 
it in a festoon, and carry it back over the very summit 
of the walls. I got out the theodolite to measure the 
angle of its deflection, and, while watching, it swung over 
an entire semicircle, now carried from the cliffs to the 
right, and then whirled back in a cloud of foam over the 
head of the Three Brothers. A very frequent prank was 
to loop the whole twenty-six hundred feet of cataract 
into a single semicircular festoon, which feU in the form 
of fine fringe. 

Throughout the afternoon we did little else than watch 
these ever-changing forms of falling water, until toward 
evening, when we walked up to see the Merced. I never 
beheld such a rapid rise in any river ; from a mere brook 



A SIERRA STORM. 169 

hiding itself away under overhanging banks and among 
shrubby islands, it sprang in one night to the size of a 
full large river, flowing with the rapidity of a torrent and 
whirling in its eddies huge trunks of storm-blown pines. 
As twilight gathered, the scene deepened into a most 
indescribable gloom ; dark-blue shadows covered half the 
precipices, and sullen unvaried sky stretched over us its 
implacable gray. There was something positively fearful 
in this color ; such an impenetrable sky might overarch 
the Inferno. As we looked, it slowly sank, creeping down 
precipices, filling the whole gorge ; coming down, down, 
and fitting the cliffs like the piston of an air-pump, till 
within a thousand feet of us it became stationary, and 
then slowly lifted again, clearing the summit and rising 
to an almost infinite remoteness. Slowly a few hard 
sharp crystals of snow floated down. 

Later the air became intensely chilly, and by dark was 
full of slowly falling snow, giving prospect of a great 
mountain storm which might close the Sierras. On the 
following morning we determined at all costs to pack 
our remaining instruments and escape. The ground was 
covered with snow to the depth of seven or eight inches, 
and through drifting fog-banks we could occasionally get 
glimpses and see that every cliff was deeply buried in 
snow. We had still a few barometrical observations 
along the Mariposa trail which w^ere necessary to com- 
plete our series of altitudes ; and I started in advance 
of Gardner and Clark to break the trail, expecting that 
when I stopped to make readings they would easily over- 
take me. Two hours' hard work was needed to reach 
the ascent. It was not until noon that I made Inspiration 
Point, snow having deepened to eighteen inches, entirely 
obliterating the trail, and had it not been for the extreme 
frequency of our journeys I should never have been able 



170 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

to follow it; as it was, with occasional mistakes which 
were soon remedied, I kept the way very well, and my 
tracks made it easy for the party behind. Having reached 
the plateau, I made my two barometrical stations, and 
then started alone through forests for Westfall's cabin. 
Every fir-tree was a solid cone of white, and often clus- 
ters of five and six were buried together in one common 
pile. Now and then a little sunlight broke through the 
clouds, and in these intei*vals the scene was one of 
wonderful beauty. Tall shafts of fir, often one hundred 
and eighty feet high, trimmed with white branches, cast 
their blue shadows upon snowy ground. 

At about four o'clock, after nine hours of hard tramp- 
ing, I reached Westfall's cabin, built a fire, and sat down 
to warm myself and wait for my friends. In half an hour 
they made their appearance, looking haggard and weary, 
declaring they would go no farther that night. They led 
their mule into the cabin, and unpacked, and began to 
make themselves comfortably at home. 

About five the darkness of night had fairly settled 
down, and with it came a gentle but dense snow-storm. 
It seemed to me a terrible risk for us to remain in the 
mountains, and I felt it to be absolutely necessary that 
one, at least, should press on to Clark's, so that, if a really 
great storm should come, he could bring up aid. Accord- 
ingly I volunteered to go on myself, Clark and Gardner 
expressing their determination to remain where they were 
at all costs. 

At this juncture Cotter's well-known voice sounded 
through the woods as he approached the cabin. He had 
been all day climbing from Clark's, and had come to lend 
a hand in getting the things down. He was of my opin- 
ion that it was absolutely necessary for one of us, at least, 
to go back to Clark's, and offered, if I thought best, to try 



A SIERRA STORM. 171 

to accompany me. I had come from Yosemite and he 
from Clark's, having travelled all day, and it was no slight 
task for us to face storm and darkness in the forest, and 
among complicated spurs of the Sierra. 

We ate our lunch by the cabin fire, bade our friends 
good night, and walked out together into the darkness. 
For the first mile there was no danger of missing our way, 
— even in the darkness of night Cotter's tracks could be 
seen, — but after about half an hour it began to be very 
difficult to keep the trail. The storm increased to a tem- 
pest, and exhaustion compelled us to travel slower and 
slower. It was with intense anxiety that we searched 
for well-known blazed trees along the trail, often thrust- 
ing our arms down in the snow to feel for a blaze that 
we knew of. If it was not there, we had for a moment an 
overpowering sense of being lost ; but we were ordinarily 
rewarded after searching upon a few trees, and the blaze 
once found reanimated us with new courage. Hour after 
hour we travelled down the mountain, falling off high 
banks now and then, for in the dark all ideas of slope 
were lost. It must have been about midnight when we 
reached what seemed to be the verge of a j^recipice. If - 
our calculations were right, we must have reached the 
edge of the South Fork Canon. Here Cotter sank with 
exhaustion and declared that he must sleep. I rolled 
him over and implored him to get up and struggle on for 
a little while longer, when I felt sure that we must get 
down to the South Fork Canon. He utterly refused, and 
lay there in a drowsy condition, fast giving up to the 
effects of fatigue and cold. I unbound a long scarf which 
was tied round his neck, put it under his arms like a 
harness, and, tying it round my body, started on, dragging 
him through the snow, to see if by that means I might 
not exasperate him to rise and labor on. In a few min- 



172 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Tites it had its effect, and he sprang to his feet and fell 
upon me in a burst of indignation. A few words were 
enough to bring him to himself, when the old calm cour- 
age was reasserted, and we started together to make our 
way down the cliff. Happily we at length found the 
right ridge, and rapidly descended through forest to the 
river side. 

Believing that we must still be below the bridge, we 
walked rapidly up the bank until, at last, we found it, 
and came quickly to Clark's. We pounded upon the 
cabin door, and waked up our friends, who received us 
with joy, and set about cooking us a supper. 

It was two o'clock when we arrived, and by three we 
all went off again to our bunks. ]\Iy anxiety about 
Gardner and Clark prevented my sleeping. Every few 
minutes I went to the door. 

Before dawn it had cleared again, and remained fair 
till the next noon, when the two made their appear- 
ance. No sooner were they quietly housed than the storm 
burst again with renewed strength, howling among the 
forest trees grandly. Snow drifted heavily all the after- 
noon, and through the night it still fell, reaching an aver- 
age depth of about two feet by the following morning. 

We were up early, and packed upon the animals our 
instruments, note-books, and personal effects, leaving all 
the blankets and heavy baggage to be gotten out in the 
following spring. We toiled slowly and heavily up Chow- 
chilla trail. The branches of the great pines and firs were 
overloaded with snow, which now and then fell in small 
avalanches upofi our heads. Here and there an old bough 
gave way under its weight, and fell with a soft thud into 
the snow. We took turns breaking trail, Napoleon, the 
one-eyed mule, distinguishing hiiyiself greatly by following 
its intricate crooks, while the bravest of us, by turns, held 



A SIERRA STORM. 173 

to his tail. There is something deeply humiliating in 
this process. All the domineering qualities of mankind 
vanished before the quick subtle instinct of that noble 
animal, the mule, and his superior strength came out in 
magnificent style. With a sublime scorn of his former 
master, he started ahead, dragging me proudly after him. 
I had sometimes thrashed that mule with unsympa- 
thetic violence, and I fancied it was something very 
like poetic justice thus submissively to follow in his 
wake. 

Midday found us upon the Chowchilla summit, follow- 
ing a trail deeply buried and often obliterated, and undis- 
coverable but for our long-eared leader. As we descended 
the west slope the snow grew more and more moist, less 
deep, and gradually turned into rain. An hour's tramp 
found us upon bare ground, under the fiercely driving rain, 
which quickly soaked us to the bone. The streams, as 
we descended, were found to be more and more swollen, 
until at last it required some nerve to ford the little 
brooklets, which the mule had drunk dry on our up- 
ward journey. The earth was thoroughly softened, and 
here and there the trail was filled with brimming brooks, 
which rapidly gullied it out. 

A more drowned and bedraggled set of fellows never 
walked out upon the wagon-road and turned toward 
Mariposa. Streams of water flowed from every fold of 
our garments, our soaked hats clung to our cheeks, the 
baggage was a mass of pulp, and the mules smelled vio- 
lently of wet hide. Fortunately our note-books, care- 
fully strapped in oil-cloth, so far resisted wetting. It 
was three o'clock in the afternoon when we reached 
Dulong's house, and were surprised to see the water flow- 
ing over the top of the bridge. In ordinary times a dry 
arroyo traverses this farm, and runs under a bridge in 



174 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

front of the house. Clark, our only mounted man, rode 
out, as he supposed, upon the bridge ; but unfortunately it 
was gone, and he and his horse plunged splendidly into 
the stream. They came to the surface, Clark with a look 
of intense astonishment on his face, and the mare sputter- 
ing and striking out wildly for the other side. Being a 
strong swimmer she reached the bank, climbed out, and 
Clark politely invited us to follow. The one-eyed Napo- 
leon was brought to the brink and induced to plunge in 
by an application of fence-rails a tergo, his cyclopean 
organ piloting him safely across, when he was quickly fol- 
lowed by the other mules. We watched the load of 
instruments with some anxiety, and were not reassured 
when their heavy weight bore the mule quite under ; but 
she climbed successfully out, and we ourselves, half swim- 
ming, half floundering, managed to cross. 

A little way farther we came upon another stream 
rushing violently across the road, sweeping down logs 
and sections of fence. Here Clark dismounted, and we 
drove the whole train in. Three animals got safely over, 
but the instrument mule was swept down stream and 
badly snagged, lying upon one side with Ms head under 
the water. 

Cotter and Gardner and Clark ran up stream and got 
across upon a log. I made a dash for the snagged mule, 
and by strong swimming managed to catch one of his feet, 
and then his tail, and worked myself toward the shore. 
It was something of a task to hold his head out of the 
water, but I was quickly joined by the others, and we 
managed to drag him out by the head and tail. There 
he lay upon the bank on his side, tired of life, utterly 
refusing to get upon his feet, the most abominable specimen 
of inertia and indifference. A\niile I was pricking him 
vigorously with a tripod, the ground caved under my feet 



A SIERRA STORM. 175 

and I quickly sank. Cotter, who was standing close by, 
seized me by the cape of my soldier's overcoat, and landed 
me as carefully as he would a fish. As we marched down 
the road, unconsciously keeping step, the sound of our 
boots had quite a symphonic effect ; they were all full of 
water, and with soft melodious slushing acted as a calmer 
upon our spirits. 

The road in some places was cut out many feet deep, 
and w^e were obliged to climb upon the wooded banks, 
and make laborious detours. At last we reached a branch 
of the Chowchilla which was pouring in a flood between 
a man's house and his barn. Here we formed a line, a 
mule between each two men. Our line was swept fright- 
fully down stream, but the leader gained his feet, and we 
came out safe and dripping upon terra firma on the other 
side. A mile farther we came upon the main Chowchilla, 
which w^as running a perfect flood ; from being a mere 
brooklet, it had swollen to a considerable river, with 
waves five and six feet high sweeping down its centre. 
We formed our line and attempted the passage, but 
were thrown back. It would have been madness to try 
it again, and we turned sorrowfully back to the last ranch. 
Cotter and I piloted the animals over to the barn, and, 
upon returning, threw a rope to our friends upon the other 
side, and were drawn through the swift water. 

In the ranch house w^e found two bachelors, typical 
California partners, who were quietly partaking of their 
supper of bacon, fried onions, Japanese tea, and biscuits, 
which, like " Harry York's," had too much saleratus. We 
stood upon their threshold awhile and dripped, quite a 
rill descending over the two steps, trickling down the 
door yard as a new fork of the Chowchilla. 

We asked for supper and shelter, but were met with 
such a gruff, inhospitable reply that we lost all sense of 



176 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

modest}^, and walked in with all our moisture. We 
stretched a rope across the middle of the sitting-room 
before a huge fire in an open chimney, then, stripping 
ourselves to the buff, we hung up our steaming clothes 
upon the line, and turned solemnly round and round 
before the fire, drying our persons. 

In the mean while our inhospitable landlords made the 
best of the situation, and proceeded to achieve more 
onions and more saleratus biscuit for our entertainment. 

Upon our departure in the morning the generous rancher 
charged us first-class hotel prices. 

The flood had utterly disappeared, and we passed over 
the Chowchilla with surprise and dry shoes. 

At Mariposa we parted from Clark, and devoted two 
whole days to struggling through the mud of San Joaquin 
Valley to San Francisco, where we arrived, wet and ex- 
hausted, just in time to get on board the New York 
steamer. 

On the morning of the twelfth day Gardner and I 
seated ourselves under the grateful shadow of palm-trees, 
a bewitching black-and-tan sister thrumming her guitar 
while the chocolate for our breakfast boiled. The slum- 
berous haze of the tropics hung over Lake Nicaragua, but 
high above its indistinct pearly veil rose the smooth cone 
of the volcano of Omatepec, robed in a cover of pale emer- 
ald green. Warmth, repose, the verdure of eternal spring, 
the poetical whisper of palms, the heavy odor of the 
tropical blooms, banished the grand cold fury of the Sierra, 
which had left a permanent chill in our bones. 



MERCED R AMBLINGS. 177 



IX. 

MERCED EAMBLINGS. 

Delightful oaks cast protecting shadows over our 
camp on the 1st of June, 1866. Just beyond a little 
cook-fire where Hoover was preparing his mind and pan 
for an omelet stood Mrs. Fremont's Mariposa cottage, 
with doors and windows wide open, still keeping up 
its air of hospitable invitation, thougli now deserted and 
fallen into decay. A little farther on, through an open- 
ing, a few clustered roofs and chimneys of the Bear Val- 
ley village showed their distant red- brown tint among 
heavy masses of green. Eastward swelled up a great 
ridge, upon whose grassy slopes were rough serpentine 
outcrops, — groups of pines, and oak-groves with pale 
green foliage and clean white bark.. Under the roots of 
this famous ]\Iount Bullion have been mined those ffold 
veins whose treasure enriched so few, whose promise 
allured so many. 

As I altogether distrust my ability to speak of this 
region without sooner or later alluding to a certain 
discovery of some scientific value which I once made 
here, I deem it wise frankly to tell the story and dis- 
charge my mind of it at once, and if possible forever. 

In the winter of 1863 I came to Bear Valley as the 
sole occupant of a stage-coach. Tlie Sierras were quite 
cloud-hidden, and desolation such as drought has never 
before or since been able to make reigned in dreary mo- 
notony over all the plains from Stockton to Hornitas. 

8* L 



178' MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Ordinarily solitude is with me only a happy synonyme 
for content ; but throughout that ride I was preyed upon 
by self-reproach, and in an aggravated manner. The pale- 
ontologist of our survey, my senior in rank and expe- 
rience, had just said of me, rather in sorrow than in 
unkindness, yet with unwonted severity, " I believe that 
fellow had rather sit on a peak all day, and stare at those 
snow- mountains, than find a fossil in the metamorphic 
Sierra " ; and, in spite of me, all that weary ride his judg- 
ment rang in my ear. 

Can it be ? I asked myself ; has a student of geology 
so far forgotten his devotion to science ? Am I really 
fallen to the level ol' a mere nature-lover ? Later, when 
evening approached, and our wheels began to rumble over 
upturned edges of Sierra slate, every jolt seemed aimed 
at me, every thin sharp outcrop appeared risen up to 
preach a sermon on my friend's text. 

I re-dedicated myself to geology, and was framing a 
resolution to delve for that greatly important but missing 
link of evidence, the fossil which should clear up an old 
unsolved riddle of upheaval age, when over to east- 
ward a fervid crimson light smote the vapor-bank and 
cleared a bright pathway tlirough to the peaks, and on to 
a pale sea-green sky. Through this gateway of rolling 
gold and red cloud the sunnnits seemed infinitely liigh 
and far, their stone and snow hung in the sky with 
lucent delicacy of hue, brilliant as gems yet soft as air, — 
a mosaic of amethyst and opal transfigured with passion- 
ate light, as gloriously above words as beyond art. Ob- 
solete shell-fishes in the metamorphic were promptly 
forgotten, and during those lingering moments, while peak 
after peak flushed and faded back into recesses of the 
heavens, I forgot what paleontological unworthiness wns 
loading me down, becoming finally quite jolly of heart. 



MERCED R AMBLINGS. 179 

But for many clays thereafter I did search and hope, 
leaving no stone unturned, and usually going so far as to 
break them oj^en. Indeed, my third hammer and I were 
losing temper together, when one noon I was tired and 
sat down to rest and lunch in the bottom of Hell's 
Hollow, a canon whose profound uninterestingness is 
quite beyond portrayal. Shut in by great monotonous 
slopes and innumerable spurs, each the exact fac-simile of 
tiie other ; with no distance, no faintest suggestion of a 
snow-peak, only a lofty chaparral ridge sweeping around, 
cutting off all eastern lookout; with a few disordered 
boulders tumbled pell-mell into the bed of a feeble brook- 
let of bitter water, — it seemed to me the place of places 
for a fossil. Here was nadir, the snow-capped zenith of 
my heart banished even from sight. A swallow of tepid 
alkaline water, with which I crowned the frugal and 
appropriate lunch, burned my throat, and completed the 
misery of the occasion. 

Jagged outcrops of slate cut through vulgar gold-dirt 
at my feet. Picking up my hammer to turn homeward, 
I noticed in the rock an object about the size and shape 
of a small cigar. It was the fossil, the object for which 
science had searched and yearned and despaired ! There 
he reclined comfortably upon his side, half bedded in 
luxuriously fine-grained argillaceous material, — a plump 
pampered cephalopoda (if it is cephalopoda), whom the 
terrible ordeal of metamorphism had spared. I knelt and 
observed the radiating structure as well as the- charac- 
teristic central cavity, and assured myself it was beyond 
doubt he. The age of the gold-belt was discovered! I 
was at pains to chip my victim out whole, and when he 
chose to break in two was easily consoled, reflecting that 
he would do as well gummed togetlier. 

I knew this mollusk perfectly by sight, could remember 



180 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

how he looked on half a dozen plates of fossils, but I 
failed exactly to recollect his name. It troubled me that 
I could come so near uttering without ever precisely hit- 
ting upon it. In ten or fifteen minutes I judged it full 
time for my joy to begin. 

Down the perspective of years I could see before me 
spectacled wise men of some scientific society, and one 
who pronounced my obituary, ending thus : " In summing 
up the character and labors of this fallen follower of 
science, let it never be forgotten that he discovered the 
cephalopoda " ; and perhaps, I mused, they will put over 
me a slab of fossil rain-drops, those eternally embalmed 
tears of nature. 

But all this came and went without the longed-for 
elation. There was no doubt I was not so ha2:)py as I 
thought I should be. 

Once in after years I met an aged German paleontol- 
ogist, fresh from his fatherland, where through threescore 
years and ten his soul had fattened on Solenhofen lime- 
stone and effete shells from many and wide-spread strata. 

We were introduced. 

" Ach ! " he said, with a kindle of enthusiasm, " I have 
pleasure you to meet, when it is you which the cephalo- 
poda discovered has." 

Then turning to one who enacted the part of Gany- 
mede, he remarked, " Zwei lauer." 

Now, with freed mind, I should say something of the 
foot-hills about our camp as tliey looked in June. Once 
before, the reader may remember, I pictured their autumn 
garb. 

It has become a fixed habit with me to climb Mount 
Bullion whenever I get a chance. My winter Sundays 
were many times spent tliere in a peace and repose which 
Bear YaUey village did not afford ; for that hamlet gave 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 181 

itself up, after the Saturday night's sleep, to a day of hellish 
jocularity. The town passed through a period of horse- 
racing, noisy quarrelsome drinking, and disorderly ser- 
vice of Satan ; then an hour in which the Spaniard loved 
and "treated" the "Americano." Later the Americano 
kicked the " damned Greaser " out of tow^n. Manly forms 
slept serenely under steps, and the few " gentlemen of the 
old school " steadied themselves against the bar-room door- 
posts, and in ingenious language told of the good old 
pandemonium of 1849. 

Thus Mount Bullion came to mean for me a Sabbath 
retreat over which heaven arched pure and blue; silent 
hours (marked by the slow sun) passing sacredly by in 
presence of nature and of God. 

So now in June I climbed on a Sunday morning to my 
old retreat, found the same stone seat with leaning oak- 
tree back and wide low canopy of boughs. A little down 
to the left, welling among tufts of grass and waving 
tulips, is the spring which Mrs. Fremont found for her 
camp -ground. North and south for miles extends our 
ridge in gently rising or falling outline, its top broadly 
round, and for the most part an open oak-grove with 
grass carpet and mountain flowers in wayward loveliness 
of growth. West, you overlook a wide panorama; oak 
and pine mottled foot-hills with rusty groundwork and 
cloudings of green wander down in rolling lines to the 
ripe plain ; beyond are plains, then coast ranges, rising in 
peaks, or curved down in passes, through which gray banks 
of fog drift in and vanish before the hot air of the plains. 
East, the Sierra slope is rent and gashed in a wilderness 
of canons, yawning deep and savage. ^liles of chaparral 
tangle in dense growth over walls and spurs, covering 
with kindly olive-green the staring red of riven mountain- 
side and gashed earth. Beyond this swells up the more 



182 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEEEA NT:VADA. 

refined plateau and hill country made of granite and 
trimmed with pine, bold domes rising above the green 
cover ; and there the sharp terrible front of El Capitan, 
guarding Yosemite and looking down into its purple gulf. 
Beyond, again, are the peaks, and among them one looms 
sharpest. It is that Obelisk from which the great storm 
drove Cotter and me in 1864. We were now bound to 
push there as soon as grass should grow among the upper 
canons. 

The air around my Sunday mountain in June is dry, 
bland, and fragrant ; a full sunlight ripens it to a perfect 
temperature, giving you at once stimulus and rest. You 
sleep in it without fear of dew, and no excess of hot or 
cold breaks up the even flow of balmy delight. You see 
the wild tulips open, and watch wind-ripples course over 
slopes of thick-standing grass-blades. Birds, so rare on 
plains or pine-hills, here sing you their fullest, and enjoy 
with you the soft white light, or come to see you in your 
chosen shadow and bathe in your spring. 

Mountain oaks, less wonderful than great straight pines, 
but altogether domestic in their generous way of reaching 
out low long boughs, roofing in spots of shade, are the 
only trees on the Pacific slope which seem to me at all 
allied to men ; and these quiet foot-hill summits, these 
islands of modest, lovely verdure floating in an ocean of 
sunlight, lifted enough above San Joaquin plains to reach 
pure high air and thrill your blood and brain with moun- 
tain oxygen, are yet far enough below the rugged wild- 
ness of pine and ice and rock to leave you in peace, and 
not forever challenge you to combat. They are almost the 
only places in the Sierras impressing me as rightly fitted 
for human company. I cannot find in wholesale vine- 
yards and ranches dotted along the Sierra foot anything 
which savors of the eternal indigenous perfume of home. 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 183 

They are scenes of speculation and thrift, of immense 
enterprise and comfort, with no end of fences and square 
miles of grain, with here and there astounding specimens 
of modern upholstery, to say nothing of pianos with elabo- 
rate legs and always discordant keys ; but they never com- 
fort the soul with that air of sacred household reserve, of 
simple human poetry, which elsewhere greets you under 
plainer roofs, and broods over your days and nights 
familiarly. 

Here on these still summits the oaks lock their arms 
and gather in groves around open slopes of natural park, 
and you are at home. A cottage or a castle would seem 
in keeping, nor would the savage gorges and snow-capped 
Sierras overcome the sober kindliness of these affectionate 
trees. It is almost as hard now, as I ^mte, to turn my 
back on Mount Bullion and descend to camp again, as it 
was that afternoon in 1866. 

Evening and supper were at hand. Hoover having 
achieved a repast of rabbit-pie, with salad from the Ital- 
ian garden near at hand. It added no little to my peace 
that two obese squaws from the neighboring rancheria 
had come and squatted in silence on either side of our 
camp-fire, adding their statuesque sobriety and fire-flushed 
bronze to the dusky druidical scene. 

To be welcomed at White and Hatch's next evening 
was reward for our dusty ride, and over the next day's 
familiar trail we hurried to Clark's, there again finding 
friends who took -us by the hand. Another day's end 
found us within the Yosemite, and there for a week we 
walked and rode, studied and looked, revisiting all our. old 
points, lingering hours here and half-days there, to com- 
plete within our minds the conception of this place. My 
chief has written so fully in his charming Yosemite book 
of all main facts and details, that I would not, if I could, 
rehearse them here. 



184 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEEKA NEVADA. 

What sentiment, what idea, does tins wonder-valley 
leave upon the earnest observer ? what impression does it 
leave upon his heart ? 

From some up-surging crag upon its brink you look 
out over wide expanse of granite swells, upon whose solid 
surface the firs climb and cluster, and afar on the sky- 
line only darken together in one deep green cover. Up- 
ward heave the eastern ridges ; above them looms a white 
rank of peaks. Into this plateau is rent a chasm; the 
fresh-splintered granite falls down, down, thousands of feet 
in sheer blank faces or giant crags broken in cleft and 
stair, gorge and bluff, down till they sink under that 
winding ribbon of park with its flash of river among sun- 
lit grass, its darkness, where within shadows of jutting 
wall cloud-Hke gather the pine companies, or, in summer 
opening, stand oak and cottonwood, casting together their 
lengthening shadow over meadow and pool. The falls, 
like torrents of snow, pour in white lines over purpled 
precipice, or, as the wind wiUs, float and drift in vanish- 
ing film of airy lace work. 

Two leading ideas are \vrought here with a force hardly 
to be seen elsewhere. First, the titanic power, the awful 
stress, which has rent this solid table-land of granite in 
twain ; secondly, the magical faculty displayed by vege- 
tation in redeeming the aspect of wreck and masking 
a vast geological tragedy behind draperies of fresh and 
living green. I can never cease marvelling how all this 
terrible crush and sundering is made fair, even lovely, 
by meadow, by wandering groves, and by those climbing 
files of pine which thread every gorge and camp in armies 
over every brink; nor can I ever banish from memory 
another gorge and fall, that of the Shoshone in Idaho, a 
sketch of which may help the reader to see more vividly 
those peculiarities of color and sentiment that make 
Yosemite so unique. 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 185 

The Snake or Lewis's Fork of the Cohimbia Eiver drains 
an oval basin, the extent of whose longer axis measures 
about four hundred miles westward from the base of 
the Eocky Mountains across Idaho and into the middle 
of Oregon, and whose breadth, in the direction of the 
meridian, averages about seventy miles. Irregular chains 
of mountains bound it in every direction, piling up in a 
few places to an elevation of nine thousand feet. The 
surface of this basin is unbroken by any considerable 
peak. Here and there, knobs, belonging to the earlier 
geological formations, rise above its level , and, in a few 
instances, dome-like mounds of volcanic rock are lifted 
from the expanse. It has an inclination from east to 
west, and a quite perceptible sag along the middle line. 
In general outline, the geology of the region is simple. 
Its bounding ranges were chiefly blocked out at the 
period of Jurassic upheaval, when the Sierra Nevada and 
Wahsatch Mountains were folded. Masses of upheaved 
granite, with overlying slates and limestones, form the 
main materials of the cordon of surrounding hills. During 
the Cretaceous and Tertiary periods, the entire basin, from 
the Eocky Mountains to the Blue Mountains of Oregon, 
W'as a fresh- water lake, on whose bottom was deposited a 
curious succession of sand and clay-beds, including, near 
the surface, a layer of white, infusorial silica. At the 
exposures of these rocks in the canon-walls of the present 
drainage system are found ample evidences of the kind of 
life which flourished in the lake itself and lived upon its 
borders. Savage fishes, of the garpike type, and vast 
numbers of cyprinoids, together with moUusks, are among 
the prominent w^ater-fossils. Enough relics of the land 
vegetation remain to indicate a flora of a sub-tropical 
climate ; and among the lafiid-fossils are numerous bones 
of elephant, camel, horse, elk, and deer. 



186 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

The savant to whose tender mercies these disjecta 
■membra have been committed, finds in the molluscan 
life the most recent types yet discovered in the Ameri- 
can Tertiaries, — forms closely allied to existing Asiatic 
species. How and wherefore this lake dried np, and gave 
place to the present barren wilderness of sand and sage, 
is one of those profound conundrums of nature yet un- 
guessed by geologists. From being a wide and beautiful 
expanse of water, edged by winding mountain-shores, with 
forest-clad slopes containing a fauna whose remains are 
now charming those light-minded fellows, the paleontolo- 
gists, the scene has entirely changed, and a monotonous, 
blank desert spreads itself as far as the eye can reach. 
Only here and there, near the snowy mountain-tops, a bit 
of cool green contrasts refreshingly with the sterile uni- 
formity of the plain. During the period of desiccation, 
perhaps in a measure accounting for it, a general flood of 
lava poured down from the mountains and deluged nearly 
tlie whole Snake basin. The chief sources of this lava 
lay at the eastern edge, where subsequent -erosion has 
failed to level several commanding groups of volcanic 
peaks. The three buttes and three tetons mark centres 
of flow. liemarkable features of the volcanic period were 
the sheets of basaltic lava which closed the eruptive era, 
and in tliin, continuous layers overspread the plain for 
three hundred miles. The earlier flows extended farthest 
to the west. The ragged, broken terminations of the 
later sheets recede successively eastward, in a broad, 
gradual stairway ; so that the present topography of the 
basin is a gently inclined field of basaltic lava, sinking to 
the west, and finally, by a series of terraced steps, de- 
scending to the level of lacustrine sand-rocks which mark 
the bottom of the ancient lake and cover the plain west- 
ward into Oregon. 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 187 

The head- waters of the Snake Eiver, gathering snow- 
drainage from a considerable portion of the Eocky Moun- 
tains, find tlieir way through a series of upland valleys 
to the eastern margin of the Snake plain, and there gath- 
ering in one main stream flow westward, occupying a 
gradually deepening cailon ; a narrow, dark gorge, water- 
worn through the thin sheets of basalt, cutting down as 
it proceeds to the westward, until, in longitude 114° 20', 
it has worn seven hundred feet into the lava. Several 
tributaries flowing' through similar though less profound 
canons join the Snake both north and south. From the 
days of Lewis, for whom this Snake or Shoshone Eiver 
was originally named, up to the present day, rumors have 
been current of cataracts in the Snake canon. It is 
curious to observe that all the earlier accounts estimate 
their height as six hundred feet, which is exactly the 
figure given by the first Jesuit observers of Niagara. 
That erratic amateur Indian, Catlin, actually visited these 
falls ; and his account of them, while it entirely fails to 
give an adequate Idea of their formation and grandeur, is 
nevertheless, in the main, truthful. Since the mining 
development of Idaho, several parties have visited and 
examined the Shoshone. 

In October, 1868, with a small detachment of the 
United States Geological Survey of the 40th Parallel, 
the writer crossed Goose Creek Mountains, in northern 
Utah, and descended by the old Fort Boise road to the 
level of the Snake plain. A gray, opaque haze hung close 
to the ground, and shut out all distance. The monotony 
of sage-desert was overpowering. We would have given 
anything for a good outlook ; but for three days the 
mists continued, and we were forced to amuse ourselves 
by chasing occasional antelopes. 

The evening we camped on Eock Creek was signal- 



188 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ized by a fierce wind from the northeast. It was a dry 
storm, which continued with tremendous fury through tlie 
night, dying away at daybreak, leaving the heavens bril- 
liantly clear. We were breakfasting when the sun rose, 
and shortly afterward, mounting into the saddle, headed 
toward the canon of the Shoshone. The air was cold 
and clear. The remotest mountain-peaks upon the 
horizon coidd be distinctly seen, and the forlorn de- 
tails of their brown slopes stared at us as through a 
vacuum. A few miles in front the smooth surface of 
the plain was broken by a ragged, zigzag line of black, 
which marked the edge of the farther wall of the 
Snake canon. A dull throbbing sound greeted us. Its 
pulsations were deep, and seemed to proceed from the 
ground beneath our feet. Leaving the cavalry to bring 
up the wagon, my two friends and I galloped on, and 
were quickly uj)on the edge of the canon-wall. We 
looked down into a broad, circular excavation, three 
quarters of a mile in diameter, and nearly seven hundred 
feet deep. East and north, over the edges of the canon, 
we looked across miles and miles of the Snake plain, far 
on to the blue boundary mountains. The wall of the 
gorge opposite us, like the cliff at our feet, sank in per- 
pendicular bluffs nearly to the level of the river, the 
broad excavation being coA^ered by rough piles of black 
lava and rounded domes of trachyte rock. An horizon as 
level as the sea ; a circling wall, whose sharp edges were 
here and there battlemented in huge, fortress-like masses ; 
a broad river, smooth and unruffled, flowing quietly into 
the middle of the scene, and then plunging into a laby- 
rinth of rocks, tumbling over a precipice two hundred 
feet high, and moving westward in a still, deep current to 
disappear behind a black promontory. It is a strange, 
savage scene: a monotony of pale blue sky, olive and 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 189 

gray stretches of desert, frowning walls of jetty lava, deep 
beryl-green of river-stretches, reflecting, here and there, 
the intense solemnity of the cliflPs, and in the centre a 
dazzling sheet of foam. In the early morning light, the 
shadows of the cliffs were cast over half the basin, defin- 
ing themselves in sharp outline here and there on the 
river. Upon the foam of the cataract one point of the 
rock cast a cobalt-blue shadow. Where the river flowed 
around the western promontory, it was wholly in shadow, 
and of a deep sea-green. A scanty growth of coniferous 
trees fringed the brink of the lower cliffs, overhanging 
the river. Dead barrenness is the whole sentiment of the 
scene. The mere suggestion of trees clinging here and 
there along the walls serves rather to heighten than to 
relieve the forbidding gloom of the place. Nor does the 
flashing whiteness, where the river tears itself among the 
rocky islands, or rolls in spray down the cliff, brighten 
the aspect. In contrast with its brilliancy, the rocks 
seem darker and more wild. The descent of four hun- 
dred feet, from our stand-point to the level of the river 
above the falls, has to be made by a narrow, winding 
path, among rough ledges of lava. We were obliged to 
leave our wagon at the summit, and pack down the camp 
equipment and photographic apparatus upon carefully led 
mules. By midday we were comfortably camped on the 
margin of the left bank, just above the brink of the falls. 
My tent was pitched upon the edge of a cliff, directly 
overhanging the rapids. From my door I looked over 
the cataract, and, whenever the veil of mist was blown 
aside, could see for a mile down the river. The lower 
half of the canon is excavated in a gray, porphyritic tra- 
chyte. It is over this material that the Snake falls. 
Above the brink, the whole breadth of the river is broken 
by a dozen small, trachyte islands, which the water has 



190 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

carved into fantastic forms: rounding some into low 
domes, sharpening others into mere pillars, and now and 
then wearing out deep caves. At the very brink of the 
fall a few twisted evers^reens clinoj with their roots to the 
rock, and lean over the abyss of foam with something of 
that air of fatal fascination which is apt to take posses- 
sion of men. 

In plan the fall recurves up stream in a deep horseshoe, 
resembling the outline of Niagara. The total breadth is 
about seven hundred feet, and the greatest height of the 
single fall about one hundred and ninety. Among the 
islands above the brink are several beautiful cascades,, 
where portions of the river pour over in lace-like forms. 
The whole mass of cataract is one ever-varying sheet of 
spray. In the early spring, when swollen by the rapidly 
melted snows, the river pours over with something like 
the grand volume of Niagara, but, at the time of my visit, 
it was wholly white foam. Here and there, along the 
brink, the underlying rock shows through, and among 
the islands shallow green pools disclose the form of the 
underlying trachyte. Numberless rough shelves break 
the fall, but the volume is so great that they are only 
discovered by the glancing outward of the foam. The 
river below the falls is very deep. The right bank sinks 
into the water in a clear, sharp precipice, but on the left 
side a narrow, pebbly beach extends along the foot of the 
cliff. From the top of the wall, at a point a quarter of a 
mile below the falls, a stream has gradually worn a little 
stairway: tliick growths of evergreens have huddled to- 
gether in this ravine. By careful climbing, we descended 
to the level of the river. The trachytes are very curiously 
worn in vertical forms. Here and there an obelisk, either 
wholly or half detached from the canon-wall, juts out like 
a buttress. Farther down, these projecting masses stand 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 191 

like a row of columns upon the left bank. Above them, 
a solid capping of black lava reaches out to the edge, and 
overhangs the river in abrupt black precipices. Wherever 
large fields of basalt have overflowed an earlier rock, and 
erosion has afterward laid it bare, there is found a strong 
tendency to fracture in vertical lines. The immense ex- 
pansion of the upper surface from heat seems to cause 
deep fissures in the mass. 

Under the influence of the cool shadow of cliffs and 
pine, and constant percolating of surface-waters, a rare 
fertility is developed in the ravines opening upon the 
canon shore. A luxuriance of ferns and mosses, an 
almost tropical wealth of green leaves and velvety carpet- 
ing, line the banks. There are no rocks at the base of 
the fall. The sheet of foam plunges almost vertically into 
a dark, beryl-green, lake-like expanse of the river. Im- 
mense volumes of foam roll up from the cataract-base, 
and, whirling about in the eddying winds, rise often a 
thousand feet in the air. When the wind blows down 
the canon, a gray mist obscures the river for half a mile ; 
and when, as is usually the case in the afternoon, the 
breezes blow eastward, the foam-cloud curls over the 
brink of the fall, and hangs like a veil over the upper 
river. On what conditions depends the height to which 
the foam-cloud rises from the base of the fall, it is ap- 
parently impossible to determine. Without the slightest 
wind, the cloud of spray often rises several hundred feet 
above the canon- wall, and again, with apparently the 
same conditions of river and atmosphere, it hardly reaches 
the brink. Incessant roar, reinforced by a thousand 
echoes, fills the canon. Out of this monotone, from time 
to time, rise strange, wild sounds, and now and then may 
be heard a slow, measured beat, not unlike the recurring 
fall of breakers. From the white front of the cataract 



192 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

the eye constantly wanders up to the black, frowning para- 
pet of lava. Angular bastions rise sharply from the gen- 
eral level of the wall, and here and there isolated blocks, 
profiling upon their sky-line, strikingly recall barbette 
batteries. To goad one's imagination up to the point of 
perpetually seeing resemblances of everything else in the 
forms of rocks, is the most vulgar vice of travellers. To 
refuse to see the architectural suggestions upon the 
Snake canon, however, is to administer a flat snub to 
one's fancy. Tlie whole edge of the canon is deeply cleft 
in vertical crevasses. The actual brink is usually formed 
of irregular blocks and prisms of lava, poised upon their 
ends in an unstable equilibrium, ready to be tumbled 
over at the first leverage of the frost. Hardly an hour 
passes without the sudden boom of one of those rock- 
masses falling upon the ragged dehris piles below. 

Night is the true time to appreciate the full force of 
the scene. I lay and watched it many hours. The 
broken rim of the basin profiled itself upon a mass of 
drifting clouds where torn openings revealed gleams of 
pale moonlight and bits of remote sky trembling with 
misty stars. Intervals of light and blank darkness hur- 
riedly followed each other. For a moment the black 
gorge would be crowded with forms. Tall cliffs, ramparts 
of lava, the rugged outlines of islands huddled together 
on the cataract's brink, faintly luminous foam breaking 
over black rapids, the swift, white leap of the river, and 
a ghostly, formless mist through which the canon- walls 
and far reach of the lower river were veiled and unveiled 
again and again. A moment of this strange picture, and 
then a rush of black shadow, when nothing could be seen 
but the breaks in the clouds, the basin-rim, and a vague, 
white centre in the general darkness. 

After sleeping on the nightmarish brink of the falls, it 



MERCED R AMBLINGS. 193 

was no small satisfaction to climb out of this Dantean 
gulf and find myself once more upon a pleasantly prosaic 
foreground of sage. Nothing more effectually banishes a 
melotragic state of the mind than the obtrusive ugliness 
and abominable smell of this plant. From my feet a 
hundred miles of it stretched eastward. A half-hour's 
walk took me out of sight of the canon, and as the wind 
blew westward, only occasional indistinct pulsations of 
the fall could be heard. The sky was bright and cloud- 
less, and arched in cheerful vacancy over the meaningless 
disk of the desert. 

I walked for an hour, following an old Indian trail 
which occasionally approached within seeing distance of 
the river, and then, apparently quite satisfied, diverged 
again into the desert. When about four miles from the 
Shoshone, it bent abruptly to the north, and led to the 
canon edge. Here again the narrow gorge widened into 
a broad theatre, surrounded, as before, by black vertical 
walls, and crowded over its whole surface by rude piles 
and ridges of volcanic rock. The river entered it from 
the east through a magnificent gateway of basalt, and, 
having reached the middle, flowed on either side of a low, 
rocky island, and plunges in two falls into a deep green 
basin. A very singular ridge of the basalt projects like 
an arm almost across the river, enclosing within its semi- 
circle a bowl three hundred feet in diameter and two 
hundred feet deep. AVithin this the water was of the 
same peculiar beryl-green, dappled here and there by 
masses of foam which swim around and around with a 
spiral tendency toward the centre. To the left of the 
island half the river plunges off an overhanging lip, and 
falls about one hundred and fifty feet, the whole volume 
reaching the surface of the basin many feet from the 
wall. The other half has worn away the edge, and de- 

9 M 



194 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEERA NEVADA. 



scends in a tumbling cascade at an angle of about forty- 
five degrees. The river at this point has not yet worn 
through the fields of basaltic lava which form the upper 
four hundred feet of the plain. Between the two falls it 
cuts through the remaining beds of basalt, and has eroded 
its channel a hundred feet into underlying porphyritic 
trachyte. The trachyte erodes far more easily than the 
basalt, and its resultant forms are quite unlike those of 
the black lava. The trachyte islands and walls are ex- 
cavated here and there in deep caves, leaving island 
masses in the forms of mounds and towers. In general, 
spherical outlines predominate, whOe the erosion of the 
basalt results always in sharp, perpendicular cliffs, with a 
steeply inclined talus of ragged debris. 

The cliffs around the upper cataract are inferior to 
those of the Shoshone. While the level of the upper 
plain remains nearly the same, the river constantly deep- 
ens the channe in its westward course. In returning 
from the upper faU, I attempted to climb along the very 
edge of the cliff, in order to study carefully the habits of 
the basalt ; but I found myself in a labyrinth of side cre- 
vasses which were cut into the plain from a hundred to a 
thousand feet back from the main waU. These recesses 
were usually in the form of an amphitheatre, with black 
walls two hundred feet high, and a bottom filled with 
immense fragments of basalt rudely piled together. 

By dint of hard climbing I reached the actual brink in 
a few places, and saw the same general features each 
time : the canon successively widening and narrowing, 
its walls here and there approaching each other and 
standing like pillars of a gateway ; the river alternately 
flowing along smooth, placid reaches of level, and rush- 
ing swiftly down rocky cascades. Here and there along 
the cliff are disclosed mouths of black caverns, where 



1 



MERCED R AMBLINGS. 195 

the lava seems to have been blown up in the form 
of a great blister, as if the original flow had poured over 
some pool of water, and, converted into steam by contact 
with the hot rock, had been blown up bubble-like by its 
immense expansion. I continued my excursions along 
the canon west of the Shoshone. About a mile below 
the fall a very fine promontory juts sharply out and pro- 
jects nearly to the middle of the canon. Climbing with 
difficulty along its toppling crest, I reached a point 
which I found composed of immense angular fragments 
piled up in dangerous poise. Eastward, the battlemented 
rocks around the falls limited the view ; but westward I 
could see down long reaches of river, where islands of 
trachyte rose above white cascades. A peculiar and fine 
effect is noticeable upon the river during all the midday. 
The shadow of the southern cliff is cast down here and 
there, completely darkening the river, but often defining 
itself upon the w^ater. The contrast between the rich, 
gem-like green of the sunlit portions and the deep violet 
shadow of the cliff is of extreme beauty. The Snake 
Eiver deriving its volume wholly from the melting of 
the mountain snows, is a direct gauge of the annual 
advance of the sun. In June and July it is a tremen- 
dous torrent, carrying a full half of the Columbia. From 
the middle of July it constantly shrinks, reaching its 
minimum in midwinter. At the lowest, it is a river 
equal to the Sacramento or Connecticut. 

After ten days devoted to walking around the neigh- 
borhood and studying the falls and rocks, we climbed to 
our wagon, and rested for a farewell look at the gorge. 
It was with great relief that we breathed the free air of 
the plain, and turned from the rocky canon where dark- 
ness, and roar, and perpetual cliffs had bounded our 
senses, and headed southward, across the noiseless plain. 



196 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Far ahead rose a lofty, blue barrier, a mountain-wall, 
marbled upon its summit by flecks of perpetual snow. 
A deep notch in its profile opened a gateway. Toward 
this, for leagues ahead of us, a white thread in the gray 
desert marked the winding of our road. Those sensi- 
tively organized creatures, the mules, thrilled with relief 
at their escape from the canons, pressed forward with a 
vigor that utterly silenced the customary poppings of the 
whip, and expurgated the language of the driver from 
his usual breaking of the Third Commandment. 

The three great falls of America, — Niagara, Shoshone, 
and Yosemite, — all happily bearing Indian names, are 
as characteristically different as possible. There seems 
little left for a cataract to express. Magara rolls forward 
with something like the inexorable sway of a natural 
law. It is force, power ; forever banishing before its irre- 
sistible rush all ideas of restraint. 

No sheltering pine or mountain distance of up-piled 
Sierras guards the approach to the Shoshone. You ride 
upon a waste, — the pale earth stretched in desolation. 
Suddenly you stand upon a brink, as if the earth had 
yawned. Black* walls flank the abyss. Deep in the 
bed a great river fights its way through labyrinths of 
blackened ruins, and plunges in foaming whiteness over 
a cliff of lava. You turn from the brink as from a fright- 
ful glimpse of the Inferno, and when you have gone a 
mile the earth seems to have closed again ; every trace 
of canon has vanished, and the stillness of the desert 
reigns. 

As you stand at tlie base of those cool walls of granite 
that rise to the clouds from the green floor of Yosemite, 
a beautiful park, carpeted with verdure, expands from 
your feet. Vast and stately pines band with their shadows 
the sunny reaches of the pure Merced. An arch of blue 



MERCED R AMBLINGS. 197 

bridges over from cliff to cliff. From the far summit of 
a wall of pearly granite, over stains of purple and yellow, 
— leaping, as it were, from the very cloud, — falls a silver 
scarf, light, lace-like, gTaceful, luminous, swayed by the 
wind. 

The cliffs' repose is undisturbed by the silvery fall 
whose endlessly varying forms of wind-tossed spray lend 
an element of life to what would otherwise be masses of 
inanimate stone. The Yosemite is a grace. It is an 
adornment. It is a ray of light on the solid front of the 
precipice. 

From Yosemite our course was bent toward the Merced 
Obelisk. An afternoon in early July brought us to camp 
in the self-same spot where Cotter and I had bivouacked 
in the storm more than two years before. 

I remembered the crash and wail of those two dreary 
nights, the thunderous fulness of tempest beating upon 
cliffs, and the stealthy, silent snow-burial ; and perhaps 
to the memory of that bitter experience was added the 
contrasting force of to-day's beauty. 

A warm afternoon sun poured through cloudless skies 
into one rocky amphitheatre. The little alpine meadow 
and full arrowy brook were flanked upon either side by 
broad rounded masses of granite, and margined by groups 
of vigorous upland trees ; firs for the most part, but 
watched over here and there by towering pines and great 
aged junipers whose massive red trunks seemed welded 
to the very stone. 

It was altogether exhilarating; even Little Billy, the 
gray horse, found it so, and devoted more time to prac- 
tical jokes upon thick-headed mules than to the rich and 
tempting verdure ; nor did the high, cool air banish from 
his tender heart a glowing Platonic affection for our brown 
mare SaUy. 



198 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

To the ripened charms of middle* age Sally united 
something more than the memory of youth ; she was re- 
markably plump and well-preserved ; her figure firm and 
elastic, and she did not hesitate to display it with many 
little arts. In presence of her favored Billy she drew 
deep sighs, and had quite an irresistible fasliion of turn- 
ing sadly aside and moving away among trees alone, as 
if she had no one to love her, — a wile never failing to 
bring him to her side and ehcit such attention as smooth- 
ing her mane or even a pressure of lips upon her brow. 
And woe to the emotional mule who ventured to cross 
our little meadow just to feel for a moment the soft com- 
fort of her presence. With the bitterness of a rejected 
suit he always bore away shoe-prints of jealous Billy. 

He led her quietly down to the brook, and never drank 
a drop until the mare was done ; then they paid a call 
at camp, nosing about among the kettles with familiar 
freedom, nibbling playfully at dish-towel and coffee-pot, 
and when we threw sticks at them, trotted off as closely 
as if they had been harnessed together. In quiet moon- 
lit hours, before I went to bed, I saw them still side by 
side, her head leaning over his withers ; Billy at qui vive 
staring dramatically with pointed ears into forest depths, 
a true and watchful guardian. 

A little reconnoitering had shown us the most direct 
way to the Obelisk, whose sharp summit looked from the 
moraine to west of us as grand and alluring as we had 
ever thought it. 

There was in our hope of scaling this point something 
more than mere desire to master a difficult peak. It was 
a station of great topographical value, the apex of many 
triangles, and, more than all, would command a grander 
view of the Merced region than any other summit. 

July 11th, about five P. M., Gardner and I strapped 



MERCED RAMBLING S. 199 

packs upon our shoulders. My friend's load consisted of 
the Temple transit, his blanket, and a great tin cup; 
mine was made up of field-glass, compass, level, blanket, 
and provisions for both, besides the barometer which, as 
usual, I slung over one shoulder. 

For the first time that year we found ourselves slowly 
zigzagging to and fro, following a grade with that pecu- 
liarly deliberate gait to which mountaineering experience 
very soon confines one. Black firs and thick-clustered 
pines covered in clumps all the lower slope, but, ascend- 
ing, we came more and more into open ground, walking 
on glacial debris among trains of huge boulders and occa- 
sional thickets of slender, delicate young trees. Emer- 
ging finally into open granite country, we came full in 
sight of our goal, whose great western precipice rose sheer 
and solid above us. 

From the south base of the Obelisk a sharp mural 
ridge curves east, surrounding an amphitheatre w^hose 
sloping rugged sides were picturesquely mottled in snow 
and stone. From the summit of this ridge we knew we 
should look over into the upper Merced basin, a great 
billowy granite depression lying between the Merced 
group and Mount Lyell; the birthplace of all those ice 
rivers and deep-cafioned torrents which join in the Little 
Yosemite and form the river Merced. Toward this we 
pressed, hurrying rapidly, as the sun declined, in hopes 
of making our point before darkness should obscure the 
terra incognita beyond. 

It put us at our best to hasten over the rough, rudely 
piled blocks and up cracks among solid bluffs of granite, 
but with the sun fully half an hour high we reached 
the Obelisk foot and looked from our ridge-top eastward 
into the new land. 

From our feet granite and ice in steep, roof-like curves 



200 MOUNTAIXEERIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

fell abruptly down to tlie Merced Canon brink, and be- 
yond, over the great gulf, rose terraces and ridges of 
sculptured stone, dressed with snow-field, one above an- 
other, up to the eastern rank of peaks whose sharp solid 
forms were still in full light. 

From below, it is always a most interesting feature of 
the mountaineer's daily life to w^atch fading sunlight upon 
the summit-rocks and snow. There is something pecu- 
liarly charming in the deep carmine flush and in the pale 
gradations of violet and cool blue-purple into which it 
successively fades. We were now in the very midst of 
this alpine glow. Our rocky amphitheatre opening directly 
to the sun was crowded full of this pure red light ; snow- 
fields w'armed to deepest rose, gnarled stems of dead pines 
were dark vermilion, the rocks yellow, and the vast body 
of the Obelisk at our left one spire of gold piercing the 
sapphire zenith. Eastw^ard, far below us, the Illilluette 
basin lay in a peculiarly mild haze, its deep carpet of 
forest warmed into faint bronze, and the bare domes and 
rounded granite ridges which everywhere rise above the 
trees w^ere yellow, of a soft creamy tint. Farther down, 
every foothill w^as perceptibly reddened under the level 
beams. Sunlight reflecting from every object shot up to 
us, enriching the brightness of our amphitheatre. 

We drank and breathed the light, its mellow Avarmth 
permeating every fibre. We spread our blankets under 
the lee of an overhanging rock, sheltered from the keen 
east-wind, and in full view of the broad \yestern horizon. 

After a short half-hour of this wonderful light the sun 
rested for an instant upon the Coast ranges, and sank, 
leaving our mountains suddenly dead, as if the very breath 
of life had ebbed away ; cold gray shadows covering their 
rigid bodies, and pale sheets of snow half shrouding their 
forms. 



MERCED R AMBLINGS. 201 

For a full hour after the sun went down we did little 
else than study the western sky, watching with greatest 
interest a wonderful permanence and singular gradation 
of lingering light. Over two hundred miles of horizon a 
low stratum of pure orange covered the sky for seven or 
eight degrees ; above that another narrow band of beryl- 
green, and then the cool dark evening blue. 

I always notice, whenever one gets a very wide view 
of remote horizon from some lofty mountain-top, the sky 
loses its high domed appearance, the gradations reaching 
but a few degrees upward from the earth, creating the 
general form of an inverted saucer. The orange and beryl 
bands occupied only about fifteen degrees in altitude, but 
swept around nearly from north to south. It was as if a 
wonderfully transparent and brilliant rainbow had been 
stretched along the sky-line. At eleven the colors were 
still perceptible, and at midnight, when I rose to observe 
the thermometer, they were gone, but a low faint zone of 
light still lingered. 

At gray dawn we were up and cooking our rasher of 
bacon, and soon had shouldered our instruments and 
started for the top. 

The Obelisk is flattened, and expands its base into two 

sharp serrated ridges which form its north and south 

edges. The broad faces turned to the east and west are 

solid and utterly inaccessible ; the latter being almost 

vertical, the former quite too steep to climb. We started, 

therefore, to work our way up the south edge, and, having 

crossed a little ravine from whose head we could look 

down eastward upon steep thousand-foot ^i^-y^, and on the 

western along the forest-covered ridge up which we had 

clambered, began in good earnest to mount rough blocks 

of granite. 

The edge here is made of immense broken rocks poised 
9* 



202 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

on each other in delicate balance, vast masses threaten- 
ing to topple over at a touch. This blade has from a dis- 
tance a considerably smooth and even appearance, but we 
found it composed of pinnacles often a hundred feet high, 
separated from the main top by a deep vertical clelt. 
More than once, after struggling to the top of one of these 
pinnacles, we were obliged to climb down the same way 
in order to avoid the notches. Finally, when we had 
reached the brink of a vertical cul-de-sac, the edge no 
longer afforded us even a foothold. There were left but 
the smooth impossible western face and the treacherous 
cracked front of the eastern precipice. We were driven 
out upon the latter, and here forced to climb with the 
very greatest care, one of us always in advance making 
sure of his foothold, the other passing up instruments by 
hand, and then cautiously following. 

In this way we spent nearly a full hour going from 
crack to crack, clinging by the least protruding masses of 
stone, now and then looking over our shoulders at the 
wreck of granite, the slopes of ice, and frozen lake thou- 
sands of feet below, and then upward to gather courage 
from the bold red spike which still rose grandly above 
us. 

At last we struggled up to what we had all along be- 
lieved the summit, and found ourselves only on a minor 
turret, the great needle still a hundred feet above. From 
rock to rock and crevice to crevice we made our way up 
a fractured edge until within fifty feet of the top, and 
here its sharp angle rose smooth and vertical, the eastern 
precipice carved in a flat face upon the one side, the 
western broken by a smoothly curved recess like the 
corner of a room. No human being could scale the edge. 
An arctic bluebird fluttered along the eastern slope in 
vain quest of a foothold, and alighted panting at our 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 203 

feet. One step more and we stood together on a little 
detached pinnacle, where, by steadying ourselves against 
the sharp, vertical Obelisk edge, we could rest, although 
the keen sense of steepness below was not altogether 
pleasing. 

About seven feet across the open head of a cul-de-sac 
(a mere recess in the west face) was a vertical cra.ck riven 
into the granite not more than three feet wide, but as 
much as eight feet deep ; in it were wedged a few loose 
boulders ; below, it opened out into space. At the 
head of this crack a rough crevice led up to the sum- 
mit. 

Summoning nerve, I knew I could make the leap, 
but the life and death question was whether the dehris 
w^ould give way under my weight, and leave me strug- 
gling in the smooth recess, sure to fall and be dashed to 
atoms. 

Two years we had longed to climb that peak, and now 
within a few yards of the summit no weak-heartedness 
could stop us. I thought, should the debris give way, by 
a very quick turn and powerful spring I could regain our 
rock in safety. 

There was no discussion, but, planting my foot on the 
brink, I sprang, my side brushing the rough projecting 
crag. While in the air I looked down, and a picture 
stamped itself on my brain never to be forgotten. The 
dehris crumbled and moved. I clutched both sides of the 
cleft, relieving all possible weight from my feet. The 
rocks wedged themselves again, and I was safe. 

It was a delicate feat of balancing for us to bridge that 
chasm with a transit and pass it across ; the view it 
afforded down the abyss was calculated to make a man 
cool and steady. 

Barometer and knapsack were next passed over. I 



204 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

placed them all at the crevice head, and flattened myself 
against the rock to make room for Gardner. I shall 
never forget the look in his eye as he caught a glimpse 
of the abyss in his leap. It gave me such a chill as no 
amount of danger nor even death coming to myself could 
ever give. The d4'bri& grated under his weight in instant 
and wedged themselves again. 

We sprang up on the rocks like chamois, and stood on 
the top shouting for joy. 

Our summit was four feet across, not large enough for 
the transit instrument and both of us ; so I, whose duties 
were geological, descended to a niche a few feet lower and 
sat down to my writing. 

Tlie sense of aerial isolation was thrilling. Away be- 
low, rocks, ridges, crags, and fields of ice swell up in jos- 
tling confusion to make a base from which springs the 
spire of stone 11,600 feet high. On all sides I could 
look right down at the narrow pedestal. Eastward great 
ranks of peaks culminating in Mount Lyell were in 
full clear view ; all streams and canons tributary to the 
Merced were beneath us in map-like distinctness. Afar 
to the west lay the rolling plateau gashed with ca- 
nons; there the white line of Yosemite Fall; and be- 
yond, half submerged in warm haze, my Sunday moun- 
tain. 

The same little arctic bluebird came again and perched 
close by me, pouring out his sweet simple song with a 
gayety and freedom which wholly charmed me. 

During our four hours' stay the thought that we must 
make that leap again gradually intruded itself, and whether 
writing or studying the country I could not altogether 
free myself from its pressure. 

It was a relief when we packed up and descended to 
the horrible cleft to actually meet our danger. We had 



MERCED RAMBLINGS. 205 

now an unreliable footing to spring from, and a mere 
block of rock to balance us after the jump. 

We sprang strongly, struck firmly, and were safe. We 
worked patiently down the east face, wound among blocks 
and pinnacles of the lower descent, and hurried through 
moraines to camp, well pleased that the Obelisk had not 
vanquished us. 



X. 

CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 

One October day, as Kaweali and I travelled by our- 
selves over a lonely foothill trail, I came to consider my- 
self the friend of woodpeckers. With rather more reserve 
as regards the bluejay, let me admit great interest in his 
worldly wisdom. As an instance of co-operative living 
the partnership of these two birds is rather more hopeful 
than most mundane experiments. For many autumn and 
winter months such food as their dainty taste chooses is 
so rare throughout the Sierras that in default of any cli- 
matic temptation to migrate the birds get in harvests 
with annual regularity and surprising labor. Oak and 
pine mingle in open growth. Acorns from the one are 
their grain ; the soft pine bark is granary ; and this the 
process : — 

Armies of woodpeckers drill small round holes in the 
bark of standing pine-trees, sometimes perforating it 
thickly up to twenty or thirty and even forty feet above 
the ground; then about equal numbers of woodpeckers 
and jays gather acorns, rejecting always the little cup, 
and insert the gland tightly in the pine bark with its 
tender base outward and exposed, to the air. 

A woodpecker, having drilled a hole, has its exact 
measure in mind, and after examining a number of 
acorns makes his selection, and never fails of a perfect 
fit. Not so the jolly, careless jay, who picks up any 
sound acorn he finds, and if it is too large for a hole, 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 207 

drops it in the most off-hand way, as if it were an af- 
fair of no consequence ; utters one of his dry chuckling 
squawks, and either tries another or loafs about lazily 
watching the hard-working woodpeckers. 

Thus they live, amicably harvesting, and with this 
sequel: those acorns in which grubs form become the 
sole property of woodpeckers, while all sound ones fall to 
the jays. Ordinarily chances are in favor of woodpeckers, 
and when there are absolutely no sound nuts the jays 
sell short, so to speak, and go over to Nevada and specu- 
late in juniper-berries. 

The monotony of hill and glade failing to interest me, 
and in default of other diversion, I all day long watched 
the birds, recalling how many gay and successful jays I 
knew who lived, as these, on the wit and industry of less 
ostentatious woodpeckers; thinking, too, what naively 
dogmatic and richly worded political economy Mr. Eus- 
kin would phrase from my feathered friends. Thus I 
came to Euskin, wishing I might see the work of his 
idol, and after that longing for some equal artist who 
should arise and choose to paint our Sierras as they are, 
with all their color-glory, power of innumerable pine and 
countless pinnacle, gloom of tempest, or splendor, where 
rushing light shatters itself upon granite crag, or burns in 
dying rose upon far fields of snow. 

Had I rubbed Aladdin's lamp? A turn in the trail 
brought suddenly in view a man who sat under shadow 
of oaks, painting upon a large canvas. 

As I approached, the artist turned half round upon his 
stool, rested pallette and brushes upon one knee, and in 
familiar ^ tone said, " Dern'd if you ain't just naturally 
ketched me at it ! Get off and set down. You ain't going 
for no doctor, I know." 

My artist was of short, good-natured, butcher-boy 



208 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

make-up, dressed in what had formerly been black broad- 
cloth, with an enlivening show of red flannel shirt about 
the throat, wrists, and a considerable display of the same 
where his waistcoat might once have overlapped a strained 
but as yet coherent waistband. The cut of these gar- 
ments, by length of coat-tail and voluminous leg, proudly 
asserted a "Bay" origin. His small feet were squeezed 
into tight, short boots, with high, raking heels. 

A round face, with small full mouth, non-committal 
nose, and black protruding eyes, showed no more sign of 
the ideal temperament than did the broad daub upon his 
square yard of canvas. 

" Going to Copples's ? " inquired my friend. 

That was my destination, and I answered, " Yes." 

" That 's me," he ejaculated. " Eight over there, down 
below those two oaks ! Ever there ? " 

"No." 

" My studio 's there now " ; giving impressive accent to 
the word. 

All the while these few words were passing he scruti- 
nized me with unconcealed curiosity, puzzled, as well he 
might be, by my dress and equipment. Finally, after I 
had tied Kaweah to a tree and seated myself by the 
easel, and after he had absently rubbed some raw sienna 
into his little store of white, he softly ventured : " Was 
you looking out a ditch ? " 

" No," I replied. 

He neatly rubbed up the white and sienna with his 
" blender," unconsciously adding a dash of Veronese green, 
gazed at my leggings, then at the barometer, and again 
meeting my eye with a look as if he feared I miglit be a 
disguised duke, said in slow tone, with liyphens of silence 
between each two syllables, giving to his language all the 
dignity of an unabridged Webster, " I would take pleasure 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 209 

in stating that my name is Hank G. Smith, artist " ; and, 
seeing me smile, he relaxed a little, and giving the blender 
another vigorous twist, added, " I Avould request yours." 

Mr. Smith having learned my name, occupation, and 
that my home was on the Hudson, near New York, 
quickly assumed a familiar me-and-you-old-fel' tone, and 
rattled on merrily about his winter in New York spent 
in " going through the Academy," — a period of deep 
moment to one who before that painted only wagons for 
his livelihood. 

Storing away canvas, stool, and easel in a deserted 
cabin close by, he rejoined me, and, leading Kaweah by 
his lariat, I walked beside Smith down the trail toward 
Copples's. 

He talked freely, and as if composing his own biogra- 
phy, beginning : — 

" California-born and mountain-raised, his nature soon 
drove him into a painter's career." Then he reverted 
fondly to New York and his experience there. 

" no ! " he mused in pleasant irony, " he never spread 
his napkin over his legs and partook French victuals 
up to old Delmonico's. 'T was n't H. G. which took lur 
to the theatre." 

In a sort of stage-aside to me, he added, " She was a 
model ! Stood for them sculptors, you know ; perfectly 
virtuous, and built from the ground up." Then, as if 
words failed him, made an expressive gesture with both 
hands over his shirt-bosom to indicate the topography of 
her figure, and, sliding them down sharply against his 
waistband, he added, " Anatomical torso I " 

Mr. Smith found relief in meeting one so near himself, 
as he conceived me to be, in habit and experience. The 
long-pent-up emotions and ambitions of his life found 
ready utterance, and a willing listener. 



210 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

I learned that his aim was to become a characteristically 
California painter, with special designs for making himseK 
famous as the delineator of mule-trains and ox-wagons ; 
to be, as he expressed it, " the Pacific Slope Bonheur." 

"There," he said, "is old Eastman Johnson; he's made 
the riffle on barns, and that everlasting girl with the ears 
of corn ; but it ain't life, it ain't got the real git-up. 

" If you want to see the thing, just look at a Gerome ; 
hi^ Arab folks and Egyptian dancing-girls, they ain't as- 
suming a pleasant expression and looking at spots while 
their likenesses is took. 

" H. G. will discount Eastman yet." 

He avowed his great admiration of Church, which, with 
a little leaning toward Mr. Gifford, seemed his only hearty 
approval. 

" It 's all Bierstadt and Bierstadt and Bierstadt now- 
adays ! What has he done but twist and skew and dis- 
tort and discolor and belittle and be-pretty this whole 
doggonned country? Why, his mountains are too high 
and too slim ; they 'd blow over in one of our fall winds. 

" I 've herded colts two summers in Yosemite, and hon- 
est now, when I stood right up in front of his jjicture, I 
did n't know it. v 

" He has n't what old Euskin calls for." 

By this time the station buildings were in sight, and 
far down the canon, winding in even grade around spur 
after spur, outlined by a low clinging cloud of red dust, 
we could see the great Sierra mule-train, — that indus- 
trial gulf-stream flowing from California plains over into 
arid Nevada, carrying thither materials for life and luxury. 
In a vast perpetual caravan of heavy wagons, drawn by 
teams of from eight to fourteen mules, aU the supplies of 
many cities and villages were hauled across the SieiTa 
at an immense cost, and with such skill of driving and 
generalship of mules as the world has never seen before. 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 



211 



Our trail descended toward the grade, quickly bringing 
us to a high bank immediately overlooking the trains a 
few rods below the group of station buildings. 

I had by this time learned that Copples, the former 
station-proprietor, had suffered amputation of the leg 
three times, receiving from the road men, in consequence, 
the name of ''Cut-off," and that, while his doctors dis- 
agreed as to whether they better try a fourth, the kmdly 
htnd of death had spared him that pain, and Mrs. Copples 
an added extortion in the bill. 

The dying "Cut-off" had made his wife promise she 
would stay by and carry on the station until all his debts, 
which were many and heavy, should be paid, and then do 

as she chose. 

The poor woman, a New Englander of some refine- 
ment, lingered, sadly fulfilling her task, though longing 
for liberty. 

When Smith came to speak of Sarah Jane, her niece, a 
new light kindled in my friend's eye. 

" You never saw Sarah Jane ? " he inquired. 

I shook my head. 

He went on to tell me that he was living in hope of 
making her Mrs. H. G., but that the bar-keeper also in- 
dulcred a hope, and as this important functionary was a 
man of ready cash, and of derringers and few words, it 
became a delicate matter to avow open rivalry ; but it was 
evident my friend's star was ascendant, and, learning that 
he considered himself to possess the " dead-wood," and to 
have "gaited" the bar-keeper, I was more than amused, 
even comforted. 

' It was pleasure to sit there leaning against a vigorous 
old oak while Smith opened his heart to me, in easy con- 
fidence, and, with quick eye watching the passing mules, 
penciUed in a little sketch-book a leg, a head, or such 



212 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEREA NEVADA. 

portions of body and harness as seemed to him useful for 
future works. 

"These are notes/' he said, "and I 've pretty much 
made up my mind to paint my great picture on a gee-pull. 
1 11 scumble in a sunset effect, lighting up the dust, and 
striking across the backs of team and driver, and I 'U 
paint a come-up-there-d'n-you look on the old teamster's 
face, and the mules wiU. be just a humping their httle 
selves and laying down to work like they 'd expire. And 
the wagon ! Don't you see what fine color-material there 
is in the heavy load and canvas-top with sunlight and 
shadow in the folds ? And that 's what 's the matter 
with H. G. Smith. 

" Orders, sir, orders ; that 's wliat I '11 get then, and 1 11 
take my little old Sarah Jane and light out for New York, 
and you 'U. see Smith on a studio doorplate, and folks '11 
say, Fine feeling for nature, has Smith ! " 

I let this singular man speak for himself in his own 
vernacular, pruning nothing of its idiom or slang, as you 
shall choose to call it. In this faithful transcript there 
are words I could have wished to expunge, but they are 
his, not mine, and illustrate his mental construction. 

The breath of most Californians is as unconsciously 
charged with slang as an Italian's of garlic, and the tAvo, 
after all, have much the same function ; you toucli the 
bowl or your language, but should never let either be fairly 
recognized in salad or conversation. But Smith's English 
was the well undefiled when compared with what I every 
moment heard from the current of teamsters which set 
constantly by us in the direction of Copples's. 

Close in front came a huge wagon piled high with cases 
of freight, and drawn along by a team of twelve mules, 
whose heavy breathing and drenched skins showed them 
hard-worked and well tired out. The driver looked anx- 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 213 

iously ahead at a soft spot in the road, and on at the 
station, as if calculating whether his team had courage 
left to haul through. 

He called kindly to them, cracked his black-snake 
whip, and all together they strained bravely on. 

The great van rocked, settled a little on the near side, 
and stuck fast. 

With a look of despair the driver got off and laid the 
lash freely among his team; they jumped and jerked, 
frantically tangled themselves up, and at last all sulked 
and "became stubbornly immovable. MeanwhQe, a mile 
of teams behind, unable to pass on the narrow grade, 
came to an unwilling halt. 

About five wagons back I noticed a tall Pike, dressed 
in checked shirt, and pantaloons tucked into jack-boots. 
A soft felt hat, worn on the back of his head, displayed 
long locks of flaxen hair, which hung freely about a florid 
pink coimtenance, noticeable for its pair of violent little 
blue eyes, and facial angle rendered acute by a sharp, 
long nose. 

This fellow watched the stoppage w4th impatience, and 
at last, when it was more than he could bear, walked up 
by the other teams with a look of wrath absolutely devil- 
ish. One would have expected him to blow up with rage ; 
yet withal his gait and manner were cool and soft in the 
extreme. In a bland, almost tender voice, he said to the 
unfortunate driver, " My friend, perhaps I can help you" ; 
and his gentle way of disentangling and patting the 
leaders ; as he headed them round in the right direction, 
would have given him a high office under Mr. Bergh. 
He leisurely examined the embedded wheel, and cast an 
eye along the road ahead. He then began in rather 
excited manner to swear, pouring it out louder and more 
profane, tiU he utterly eclipsed the most horrid blasphe- 



214 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

mies I ever heard, piling them up thicker and more 
fiendish till it seemed as if the very earth must open and 
engulf him. 

I noticed one mule after another give a little squat, 
bringing their breasts hard against the collars, and strain- 
ing traces, till only one old mule with ears back and dan- 
gling chain still held out. The Pike walked up and yelled 
one gigantic oath ; her ears sprang forward, she squatted 
in terror, and the iron links grated under her strain. He 
then stepped back and took the rein, every trembling mule 
looking out of the corner of its eye and listening at qui 
vive. 

With a peculiar air of deliberation and of childlike 
simplicity, he said in every-day tones, " Come up there, 
mules ! " 

One quick strain, a slight rumble, and the wagon rolled 
on to Copples's. 

Smith and I followed, and as we neared the house he 
punched me familiarly and said, as a brown petticoat dis- 
appeared in the station door, " There 's Sarah Jane ! When 
I see that girl I feel like I 'd reach out and gather her 
in " ; then clasping her imaginary form as if she was about 
to dance with him, he executed a couple of waltz turns, 
softly intimating, " That 's what 's the matter with H. G." 

Kaweah being stabled, we betook ourselves to the office, 
which was of course bar-room as well. As I entered, the 
unfortunate teamster was about paying his liquid compli- 
ment to the florid Pike. Their glasses were filled. " My 
respects," said the little driver. The whiskey became lost 
to view, and went eroding its way through the dust these 
poor fellows had swallowed. He added, "Well, Billy, 
you can swear." 

" Swear ? " repeated the Pike in o tone of incredulous 
questioning. "Me swear?" as if the compliment were 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S./ 215 

greater than his modest desert. " No, I can't blaspheme 
worth a cuss. You 'd jest orter hear Pete Green. He 
can exlwrt the impenitent mule. I 've known a ten-mule- 
team to renounce the flesh and haul thirty-one thousand 
through a foot of clay mud under one of his outpourings." 

As a hotel, Copples's is on the Mongolian plan, which 
means that dining-room and kitchen are given over to the 
mercies — never very tender — of Chinamen ; not such 
Chinamen as learned the art of pig-roasting that they 
might be served up by Elia, but the average John, and a 
sadly low average that John is. I grant him a certain 
general air of thrift, admitting, too, that his lack of sobriety 
never makes itself apparent in loud Celtic brawl. • But 
he is, when all is said, and in spite of timid and fawning 
obedience, a very poor servant. 

Now and then at one friend's house it has happened to 
me that I dined upon artistic Chinese cookery, and all 
they who come home from living in China smack their 
lips over the relishing cuisine. I wish they had sat down 
that day at Copples's. No; on second thought I would 
spare them. 

John may go peacefully to North Adams and make 
shoes for us, but I shall not solve the awful domestic 
problem by bringing him into my kitchen ; certainly so 
long as Howells's "Mrs. Johnson" lives, nor even while I 
can get an Irish lady to torment me, and offer the hospi- 
tality of my home to her cousins. 

After the warning bell, fifty or sixty teamsters inserted 
their dusty heads in buckets of water, turned their once 
white neck-handkerchiefs inside out, producing a sudden 
effect of clean linen, and made use of the two mournful 
WTecks of combs which hung on strings at either side the 
Copples's mirror. Many went to the bar and partook of a 
" dust-cutter." There was then such clearing of throats. 



216 MOUNTAIXEEEIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

and such loud and prolonged blowing of noses as may 
not often be heard upon this globe. 

In the calm which ensued, conversation sprung up on 
" lead harness," the " Stockton wagon that had went off 
the grade," with here and there a sentiment called out by 
two framed lithographic belles, who in great richness of 
color and scantiness of raiment flanked the bar-mirror ; 
— a dazzling reflector, chiefly destined to portray the bar- 
keeper's back hair, which work of art involved much affec- 
tionate labor. 

A second bell, and rolling away of doors revealed a 
long dining-room, with three parallel tables, cleanly set 
and watched over by Chinamen, whose fresh white clothes 
and bright olive-buff skin made a contrast of color which 
was always chief among my yearnings for the Nile. 

While 1 loitered in the background every seat was 
taken, and I found myself with a few dilatory teamsters 
destined to await a second table. 

The dining-room communicated with a kitchen beyond 
by means of two square apertures cut in the partition 
wall. Through these portholes a glare of red light poured, 
except when the square framed a Chinese cook's head, or 
discharged hundreds of little dishes. 

The teamsters sat down in patience ; a few of the more 
elegant sort cleaned their nails with the three-tine forks, 
others picked their teeth with them, and nearly all speared 
with this implement small specimens from the dishes be- 
fore them, securing a pickle or a square inch of pie or 
even that luxury a dried apple ; a few, on tilted-back 
chairs, drummed upon the bottom of their plates the 
latest tune of the road. 

Wlien fairly under way the scene became active and 
animated beyond belief Waiters balancing upon their 
arms twenty or thirty plates, hurried along and shot them 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 217 

dexterously over the teamsters' heads with crash and 
spatter. 

Beans swimming in fat, meats slimed with pale ropy 
gravy, and over everything a faint Mongol odor, — the 
flavor of moral degeneracy and of a disintegrating race. 

Sharks and wolves may no longer be figured as types 
of prandial haste. My friends, the teamsters, stuffed and 
swallowed with a rapidity which was alarming but for 
the dexterity they showed, and which could only have 
come of long practice. 

In fifteen minutes the room was empty, and those 
fellows who were not feeding grain to their mules lighted 
cigars and lingered around the bar. 

Just then my artist rushed in, seized me by the arm, 
and said in my ear, "We '11 have our supper over to 
Mrs. Copples's. no, I guess not — Sarah Jane — arms 
peeled — cooking up stuff — old woman gone into the 
milk-room with a skimmer." He then added that if I 
wanted to see what I had been spared, I might follow him. 

We went round an angle of the building and came upon 
a high bank, where, through wide-open windows, I could 
look into the Chinese kitchen. 

By this time the second table of teamsters were under 
way, and the waiters yelled their orders through to the 
three cooks. 

This large unpainted kitchen was lighted up by kero- 
sene lamps. Through clouds of smoke and steam dodged 
and sprang the cooks, dripping with perspiration and 
grease, grabbing a steak in the hand and slapping it down 
on the gridiron, slipping and sliding around on .the damp 
floor, dropping a card of biscuits and picking them up 
again in their fists, which were garnished by the whole 
bill of fare. The red papers with Chinese inscriptions, 
and little joss-sticks here and there pasted upon each 

10 



218 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

wall, the spry devils themselves, and that faint sickening 
odor of China which pervaded the room, combined to pro- 
duce a sense of deep sober gratitude that I had not risked 
their fare. 

"Now," demanded Smith, "You see that there little 
white building yonder ? " 

I did. 

He struck a contemplative position, leaned against the 
house, extending one hand after the manner of the min- 
strel sentimentalist, and softly chanted : — 

** 'T is, 't is the cottage of me love " ; 

and there 's where they 're getting up as nice a little 
supper as can be found on this road or any other. Let 's 
go over ! " 

So we strolled across an open space where were two 
giant pines towering sombre against the twilight, a little 
mountain brooklet, and a few quiet cows. 

"Stop," said Smith, leaning his back against a pine, 
and encircling my neck affectionately with an arm ; " I 
told you, as regards Sarah Jane, how my feelings stand. 
Well now, you just bet she 's on the reciprocate ! When 
I told old woman Copples I 'd like to invite you over, 
— Sarah Jane she past me in the doorway, — and said 
she, ' Glad to see your friends.' " 

Then sotto voce, for we were very near, he sang again : — 

*' 'T is, 't is the cottage of rae love" ; 

" and C. K.," he continued familiarly, " You 're a judge of 
wimmen," chucking his knuckles into my ribs, whereat T 
jumped ; when he added, " There, I knew you was. Well, 
Sarah Jane is a derned magnificent female ; number three 
boot, just the height for me. ' Venus cle Copples, I call 
her, and would make the most touching artist's wife in 
this planet. If I design to paint a head, or a foot, or an 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 219 

arm, get my little old Sarali Jane to peel the particular 
charm, and just whack her in on the canvas." 

We passed in througli low doors, turned from a small 
dark entry into the family sitting-room, and were alone 
there in presence of a cheery log fire which good-natur- 
edly bade us welcome, crackling freely and tossing its 
sparks out upon floor of pine and Coyote-skin rug. A 
few old framed prints hung upon dark walls, their faces 
looking serenely down upon the scanty old-fashioned 
furniture, and windows full of flowering plants. A low- 
cushioned chair, not long since vacated, was drawn close 
by the centre-table, whereon were a lamp, and a large 
open Bible with a pair of silver-bowed spectacles lying 
upon its lighted page. 

Smith 'tmade a gesture of silence toward the door, 
touched the Bible, and whispered, ''Here 's where old 
woman Copples lives, and it is a good thing ; I read it 
aloud to her evenings, and I can just feel the high local 
lights of it. It '11 fetch H. G. yet ! " 

At this juncture the door opened; a pale, .thin, elderly 
woma'n entered, and with tired smile greeted me. While 
her hard, labor-stiffened, needle-roughened hand was in 
mine, I looked into her face and felt something (it may 
be, it must be but little, yet something) of the sorrow of 
her life; that of a woman large in sympathy, deep in 
faith, eternal in constancy, thrown away on a rough 
worthless fellow. All things she hoped for had failed 
her; the tenderness which never came, the hopes years 
ago in ashes, the whole world of her yearnings long 
buried, leaving only the duty of living and the hope of 
Heaven. As she sat down, took up her spectacles and 
knitting, and closed the Bible, she began pleasantly to 
talk to us of the warm bridit autumn nidits, of Smith's 
work, and then of my own profession, and of her niece, 



220 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Sarah Jane. Her genuinely sweet spirit and natively 
gentle manner were very beautiful, and far overbalanced 
all traces of rustic birtb and mountain life. 

that unquenchable Christian fire, how pure the gold 
of its result ! It needs no practiced elegance, no social 
greatness, for its success; only the warm human heart, 
and out of it shall come a sacred calm and gentleness, 
such as no power, no wealth, no culture may ever hope to 
win. 

No words of mine would outline the beauty of that 
plain weary old woman, the sad sweet patience of those 
gray eyes, nor the spirit of overflowing goodness which 
cheered and enlivened the half hour we spent there. 

H. G. might perhaps be pardoned for showing an alac- 
rity when the door again opened and Sarah Jane rolled, I 
might almost say trundled in, and was introduced to me. 

Sarah Jane was an essentially Californian j)roduct, as 
much so as one of those vast potatoes or massive pears ; 
she had a suggestion of State-Fair in the fuhiess of her 
physique, yet with all was pretty and modest. 

If I could have rid myself of a fear that her buttons 
might sooner or later burst off and go singing by my ear, 
I think I might have felt as H. G. did, that she was a 
" magnificent female " with her smooth brilliant skin and 
ropes of soft brown hair. 

H. G., in presence of the ladies, lost something of his 
original flavor, and rose into studied elegance, greatly to 
the comfort of Sarah, whose glow of pride as his talk ran 
on came without show of restraint. 

The supper was delicious. 

But Sarah was quiet, quiet to H. G. and to me, until 
after tea, when the old lady said : " You young folks will 
have to excuse me this evening," and withdrew to her 
chamber. 



CUT-OFF COPPLES'S. 221 

More logs were then piled on the sitting-room hearth, 
and we three gathered in semicircle. 

Presently H. G. took the poker and twisted it about 
among coals and ashes, prying up the oak sticks, as he 
announced, in a measured, studied way, "An artist's 
wife, that is," he explained, "an Academician's wife 
orter, well she 'd orter sale the beautiful, and take her 
regular &^sthetics ; and then again," he continued in ex- 
planatory tone, " she 'd orter know how to keep a hotel, 
derned if she had n't, for it 's rough like furst off, 'fore a 
feller gits his name up. But then when he does tho' 
she 's got a salubrious old time of it. It 's touch a little 
bell" (he pressed the andiron-top to show us how the 
thing was done), " and ' Brooks, the morning paper ! ' 
Open your regular Herald : — 

" ' Aet l^OTES. — Another of H. G. Smith's tender works 
entitled, " Off the Grade," so full of out-of-doors and sub- 
tle feeling of nature, is now on exhibition at Goupel's.' 

" Look down a little further. 

" ' Italian Opera. — Between the acts aU eyes turned 
to the distingue, Mrs. H. G. Smith, who looked,' " — then 
turning to me, and waving his hand at Sarah Jane, " I 
leave it to you if she don't." 

Sarah Jane assumed the pleasing color of the sugar- 
beet without seeming inwardly unhappy. 

" It 's only a question of time with H. G.," continued 
my friend. " Art is long you know, derned long, and it 
may be a year before I paint my great picture, but after 
that Smith works in lead harness." 

He used the poker freely, and more and more his flow 
of hopes turned a shade of sentiment to Sarah Jane, who 
smiled broader and broader, showing teeth of healthy 
whiteness. 

At last I withdrew and sought my room, which was 



222 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

H. G.'s also, and his studio. I had gone with a candle 
around the walls whereon were tacked studies and sketches, 
finding here and there a bit of real merit among the pro- 
fusion of trash, when the door burst open and my friend 
entered, kicked off his boots and trousers, and walked up 
and down at a sort of quadrille step singing : — 

"Yes, it 's the cottage of me love ; 
You bet, it 's the cottage of me love," 

and what 's more, K G. has just had his genteel good- 
night kiss ; and when and where is the good old bar- 
keep ? " 

I checked his exuberance as best I might, knowing full 
well that the quiet and elegant dispenser of neat and 
mixed beverages hearing this inquiry would put in an 
appearance in person and offer a few remarks designed to 
provoke ill-feeling. So I at last got Smith in bed and the 
lamp out. All was quiet for a few moments, and when I 
had almost gotten asleep, I heard my room-mate in low 
tones say to himself : — 

" Married, by the Eev. Gospel, our talented California 
artist, Mr. H. G. Smith, to Miss Sarah Jane Copples. No 
cards." 

A pause, and then with more gentle utterance, "and 
that 's what the matter with H. G." 

Slowly from this atmosphere of art I passed away into 
the tranquil land of dreams. 



XI. 

SHASTA. 

We escaped the harvesting season of 1870. I try to 
believe all its poetry is not forever immolated under the 
strong wheels of that pastoral Juggernaut of our day, the 
steam-reaper, and to be grateful that Euths have not now 
to glean the fallen wheat-heads and loaf around at ques- 
tionable hours setting their caps for susceptible ranchers. 
Whatever stirring rhythm may to-day measure time with 
the quick fire-breath of reaping-machines shall await a 
more poetic pen than this. Some modern Virgil coming 
along the boundless wheat plain may" perhaps sing you 
bucolic phrases of the new iron age ; but he will soon see 
his mistake, as will you. The harvest home, with its 
Longfellow mellowness of atmosphere, or even those 
ideally colored barns of Eastman Johnson's, with corn 
and girls and some of the lingering personal relationship 
between crops and human hands ; all that is tradition 
here, not even memory. 

It is quite as well. These people are more germane 
with enterprise and hurry, and with the winding-up 
drink at some vulgar tavern when the hired hands are 
paid off and gather to have "a real nice time with the 
boys." 

This was over. The herds of men had poured back to 
their cities and wandered away among distant mines as 
far as their earnings would carry them. 

A few stranded bummers who awoke from their "nice 



224 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

time" penniless, still lingered in pathetic humiliation 
around the scene of their labor, rather heightening that 
air of sleep which now pervaded every ranch in the 
Sacramento vallej. 

We quitted the hotel at Chico with relief, gratefully 
turning our backs upon the Chinamen whose cookery had 
spoiled our two days' peace. Mr. Freeman Clark will 
have to make out a better case for Confucius or else these 
fellows were apostate. But they were soon behind us, a 
straight dusty avenue leading us past clusters of ran- 
ches into a quiet expanse of level land, and beneath 
the occasional shadow of roadside oaks. Miles of har- 
vested plain lay close shaven in monotonous Xaples yel- 
low, stretching on, soft and vague, losing itself in a gray, 
half-luminous haze. Now and then, through more trans- 
parent intervals, we could see the brown Sierra feet 
walling us in to eastward, their oak-clad tops fainter and 
fainter as they rose into this sky. Directly overhead 
hung an arch of pale blue, but a few degrees down the 
hue melted into golden gray. Looming through the mist 
before us rose sombre forms of trees, growing in pro- 
cessions along the margins of snow-fed streams which 
flow from the Sierra across the Sacramento river. Through 
these silent sleepy groves the seclusion is perfect. You 
come in from blinding sun-scorched plains to the great 
aged oaks, whose immense breadth of bough seems out- 
stretched with effort to shade more and more ground. 

Alders and cottonwoods line the stream banks ; native 
grapes in tropical profusion drape the shores, and hang 
in trailing curtains from tree to tree. Here and there 
glimpses open into dark thickets. The stream comes 
into view between walls of green. Evening sunlight, 
broken with shadow, falls over rippling shallows; still 
expanses of deep pool reflect blue from the zenith, and 



SHASTA. 225 

flow on into dark-sliaded coves beneath overhanging ver- 
dure. Vineyards and orchards gather themselves pleas- 
antly around ranch-houses. 

Men and women are dull, unrelieved; they are all 
alike. The eternal flatness of landscape, the monotony 
of endlessly pleasant weather, the scarcely varying year, 
the utter want of anything unforeseen, and absence of all 
surprise in life, are legible upon their quiet uninteresting 
faces. They loaf through eleven months to harvest one. 
Individuality is wanting. The same kind of tiresome 
ranch-gossip you hear at one table spreads itself over 
listenino; acres to the next. 

The great American poet, it may confidently be pre- 
dicted, will not book his name from the Sacramento 
Valley. The people, the acres, the industry seem to be 
created solely to furnish vulgar fractions in the census. 
It was not wholly fancy that detected in the grapes 
something of the same flatness and sugary insipidity 
which characterized the girls I cliatted with on certain 
piazzas. 

What an antipode is the condition of sterile poverty in 
the farm-life of tlie East. Frugality, energy, self-preserv- 
ing mental activity contrast sharply with the contented 
lethargy of this commonplace opulence. Mile after mile, 
in recurring succession of wheatland and vineyard, oak- 
grove and dusty shabbiness of graceless ranch-buildings, 
stretches on, flanking our way on either side, until at last 
the undulations of the foot-hills are reached, and the flrst 
signs of vigorous life are observed in the trees. Attitude 
and consciousness are displayed in the lordly oaks which 
cluster upon brown hillsides. The Sacramento, which 
through the slumberous plain had flowed in a still deep 
current, reflecting only the hot haze and motionless forms 
of the trees upon its banks, here courses along with the 

10* o 



226 MOUNTAIXEEEIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ripple of life, "displaying throiigli its clear waters boulders 
and pebbles freighted from the higher mountains. 

Our road, ascending through sunny valleys and among 
rolling oak-clad hills, at length reaches the level of the 
pines, and climbing to a considerable crest descends 
among a fine coniferous forest into the deejDly-wooded 
valley of the Pitt. Lifted high against the sky, ragged 
hills of granite and limestone limit the view. The 
river, through a sharp rocky canon, has descended from 
the volcanic plains of northeastern California, cutting its 
way across the sea of hills which represents the Sierra 
Nevada, and falling toward the west in a series of white 
rapids. 

Our camp in the cool mountain air banished the fa- 
tigues of weary miles ; night, under the mountain stars, 
gave us refreshing sleep ; and, from the morning we 
crossed Pitt Ferry, we dated a new life. 

In a deep gorge between lofty pine-clad walls we came 
upon the McCloud, a brilliantly pure stream, wearing its 
w^ay through lava rocks, and still bearing the ice-chill of 
Shasta. Dark feathery firs stand in files along the swift 
river. Oaks, with lustrous leaves, rise above hill-slopes 
of red and brown. Numbers of Indian camps are posted 
here. I find them picturesque : low conical huts, open- 
ing upon small smoking fires attended by squaws. 
Numberless salmon, split and drying in rows upon light 
scaffoldings, make their light-red conspicuous amid the 
generally dingy surroundings. 

These Indian faces are fairly good-natured, especially 
when young. I visited one camp, upon the left river 
bank, finding jMadam at home seated by her fireside en- 
gaged in maternal duties. I am almost afraid to des.cribe 
the squallor and grotesque hideousness of her person. 
She was emaciated and scantily clad in a sort of short 



SHASTA. 227 

petticoat, shaggy, unkempt liair overhanging a pair of wild 
wolf's eyes. The ribs and collar-bone stood out as upon 
an anatomical specimen ; hard black flesh clinging in 
formless masses upon her body and arms. Altogether 
she had the appearance of an animated mummy. Her 
child, a mere amorphous roll, clung to her, and empha- 
sized, with cubbish fatness, the wan, shrunken form of 
its mother, looking like some ravenous leech which was 
draining the woman's very blood. Shuddering, I hurried 
away to observe the husband. 

The " buck " was spearing salmon a short distance down 
stream, his naked form poised upon a beam which pro- 
jected over the river, his eyes riveted, and spear uplifted 
waiting for the prey ; sunlight, streaming down in broken 
masses through trees, fell brilliantly upon his muscular 
shoulder and tense compact thigh, glancing now and then 
across rigid arms and the polished point of his spear. 
The swift dark water rushed beneath him, flashing upon 
its surface a shimmering reflection of his red figure. Cast 
in bronze he would have made a companion for Quincy 
Ward's Indian hunter ; and better than a companion, for 
in his wolfish sinew and panther muscle there was not, so 
far as I could observe, that free Greek suppleness which 
is so fine a feature in Mr. Ward's statue, though Ajax, 
disguised as an American Indian, might be a better name 
for that great and powerful piece of sculpture. 

A day's march brought us from McCloud to the Sacra- 
mento here a small stream, with banks fringed by a 
pleasing variety of trees and margins graceful with water- 
plants. 

Northward for two days we followed closely the line 
of the Sacramento Eiver, now descending along slopes to 
its bed, where the stream played among picturesque 
rocks and boulders, and again climbing by toilsome as- 



228 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

cents into the forest a thousand feet up on the canon 
wall, catching glimjDses of towering ridges of pine-clad 
Sierra above, and curves of the foaming river deejo in the 
blue shadow beneath us. 

More and more the woods became darkened with moun- 
tain pine, the air freshened by northern life gave us the 
inspiration of altitude. 

At last, throufijh a notch to the northward, rose the 
conical summit of Shasta, its pale, rosy lavas enamelled 
with ice. Body and base of the great peak were hidden 
by intervening hills, over whose smooth rolls of forest 
green the bright, blue sky and the brilliant Shasta sum- 
mit were sharp and strong. From that moment the peak 
became the centre of our life. From every, crest we 
strained our eyes forward, as nov\^ and then, either through 
forest vistas the incandescent snow greeted us, or from 
some high summit the opening canon walls displayed 
gTander and grander views of the great volcano. It was 
sometimes, after all, a pleasure to descend from these cool 
heights, with the irr.pression of the mountain upon our 
minds, to the canon bottom, where, among the endlessly 
varying bits of beautiful detail, the mental strain wore 
off. 

When our tents were pitched at Sisson's, while a pic- 
turesque haze floated up from southward, we enjoyed the 
grand uncertain form of Shasta with its heaven-piercing 
crest of white, and wide placid sweep of base ; full of lines 
as deeply reposeful as a Greek temple. Its dark head 
lifted among the fading stars of dawn, and strongly set 
upon the arch of coming rose, appealed to our emotions ; 
but best we liked to sit at evening near Hunger's easel, 
watching the great lava cone glow with light almost as 
wild and lurid as if its crater still streamed. 

Watkins thought it " photographic luck " that the moun- 



SHASTA. 229 

tain should so have draped itself with mist as to defy his 
camera. Palmer stayed at camp to make observations in 
the coloring of meerschaums at fixed altitudes, and to 
watch now and then the station barometer. 

Shasta from Sisson's is a broad triple mountain, the 
central summit being flanked on the west by a large and 
quite perfect crater whose rim reaches about twelve thou- 
sand feet altitude. On the west a broad shoulder-like 
spur juts from the general slope. The cone rises from its 
base eleven thousand feet in one sweep. 

A forest of tall, rich pines surrounds Strawberry Valley, 
and the little group of ranches near Sisson's. Under this 
high sky, and a pure quality of light, the wdiole varied 
foreground of green and gold stretches out toward the 
rocky mountain base in charming contrast. Brooks from 
the snow thread their way through open meadow, waving 
overhead a tent-work of willows, silvery and cool. 

Shasta, as a whole, is the single cone of an immense 
extinct volcano. It occupies almost precisely the axial 
line of the Sierra Nevada, but the range, instead of carry- 
ing its great wave-like ridge through this region, breaks 
down in the neighborhood of Lassen's Butte, and for 
eighty miles northward is only represented by low con- 
fused masses of mountain cut through and through by the 
canons of the McCloud, Pitt, and Sacramento. 

A broad volcanic plain, interrupted here and there by 
inconsiderable chains, occupies the country east of Scott's 
Mountain. From this general plain, whose altitude is 
from twenty-five hundred to thirty-five hundred feet, 
rises Mount Shasta. . About its base cluster hillocks of a 
hundred little volcanoes, but they are utterly incon- 
spicuous under the shadow of the great peak. The vol- 
canic plain-land is partly overgrown by forest, and in 
part covers itself with fields of grass or sage. Biding 



230 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIEEKA NEVADA. 

over it in almost any part the one great point in the 
landscape is the cone of Shasta ; its crest of solid white, 
its vast altitude, the pale-gray or rosy tints of its lavas, 
and the dark girdle of forest which swells up over canon- 
carved foothills give it a grandeur equalled by hardly 
any American mountain. 

September 11th found the climbers of our party, — 
S. F. Emmons, Frederick A. Clark, Albert B. Clark, Mr. 
Sisson, the pioneer guide of the region, and m3^self, — 
mounted upon our mules heading for the crater cone over 
rough rocks and among the stunted firs and pines which 
mark the upper limit of forest growth. The morning 
was cool and clear with a fresh north wind sweeping 
around the volcano and brinmnoj in its descent invioora- 
ting cold of the snow region. "When we had gone as far 
as our mules could carry us, threading their difficult 
way among piles of lava, we dismounted and made up 
our packs of beds, instruments, food, and fuel for a three 
days' trip, turned the animals over to George and John, 
our two muleteers, bade them good day, and with Sisson, 
who was to accompany us up the first descent, struck out 
on foot. Already above vegetation, we looked out over 
all the valley south and west, observing its arabesque of 
forest, meadow, and chaparral, the files of pines which 
struggled up almost to our feet^ and just below us the 
volcano slope strewn with red and brown wreck and 
patches of shrunken snow-drift. 

Our climb up tlie steep western crater slope was slow 
and tiresome, quite without risk, or excitement. The 
footing, altogether of lodged d4hris, at times gave way 
provokingly, and threw us out of balance. Once upon 
the spiry pinnacles which crown the crater rim, a scene 
of wild power broke upon us. The round crater-bov/l, 
about a mile in diameter and nearly a thousand feet 



SHASTA. 231 

deep, lay beneath us, its steep, shelving sides of shat- 
tered lava mantled in places to the very bottom by fields 
of snow. 

We clambered along the edge toward Shasta, and came 
to a place where for a thousand feet it was a mere blade 
of ice, sharpened by the snow into a thin, frail edge, 
upon which we walked in cautious balance, a misstep 
likely to hurl us down into the chaos of lava blocks 
within the crater. 

Passing this, we reached the north edge of the rim, 
and from a rugged mound of shattered rock looked down 
into a gorge between us and the main Shasta. There, 
winding its huge body along, lay a glacier, riven with 
sharp, deep crevasses yawning fifty or sixty feet wide, 
the blue hollows of their shadowed depth contrasting 
with the brilliant surfaces of ice. 

We studied its whole length from the far, high Shasta 
crest down in winding course, deepening its canon more 
and more as it extends, crowding past our crater cone, 
and at last terminating in bold ice-billows and a wide 
belt of hilly moraine. The surface over half of its length 
was quite clean, but directly opposite us occurs a fine ice 
cascade; there its entire surface is cut with transverse 
crevasses, which have a general tendency to curve down- 
ward ; and all this dislocation is accompanied by a freight 
of lava blocks which shoot down the canon walls on 
either side, bounding out all over the glacier. 

In a later trip, while AVatkins was making his photo- 
graphic views, I climbed about, going to the edges of 
some crevasses and looking over into their blue vaults, 
where icicles overhang and a whispered sound of water- 
flow comes up faintly from beneath. 

From a point about midway across where I had climbed 
and rested upon the brink of an ice-cliff, the glacier below 



232 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

me breaking off into its wild pile of cascade blocks and 
serac, I looked down over all the lower flow, broken with 
billowy upheavals, and bright with bristling spires 
of sunlit ice. Upon the right rose the great cone of 
Shasta, formed of chocolate-colored lavas, its skyline a 
single curved sweep of snow cut sharply against a deep 
blue sky. To the left the precipices of the lesser cone 
rose to the altitude of twelve thousand feet, their surfaces 
half jagged ledges of lava and half irregular sheets of ice. 
From my feet the glacier sank rapidly between volcanic 
walls, and tlie shadow of the lesser cone fell in a dark 
band across the brilliantly lighted surface. Looking 
down its course, my eye ranged over sunny and shadowed 
zones of ice, over the gray, boulder region of the terminal 
moraine ; still lower, along the former track of ancient and 
grander glaciers, and down upon undulating pine-clad foot- 
hills descending in green steps, reaching out like promon- 
tories into the sea of plain which- lay outspread nine thou- 
sand feet below, basking in the half-tropical sunshine, its 
checkered green fields and orchards ripening their wheat 
and figs. 

Our little party separated, each going about his labor. 
The Clarks, wdth theodolite and barometer, were engaged 
on a pinnacle over on the western crater-edge. Mr. 
Sisson, who had helped us thus far with a huge pack-load 
of wood, now said good by, and was soon out of sight 
on his homeward tramp. Emmons and I geologized 
about the rim and interior slope, getting at last out of 
sight of one another. 

In mid-crater sprang up a sharp cone several hundred 
feet high, composed of much shattered lava, and indi- 
cating doubtless the very latest volcanic activity. At its 
base lay a small lakelet, frozen over with rough black 
ice. Far below us, cold, gray banks and floating flocks 



SHASTA. 233 

of vapor began to drift and circle about the lava slopes, 
rising higher at sunset, till they quite enveloped us, and 
at times shut out the view. 

Later we met for bivouac, spread our beds upon small 
dehris under lee of a mass of rock on the rim, and built 
a little camp-fire, around which we sat closely. Cloud., 
still eddied about us, opening now wide rifts of deep- 
blue sky, and then glim]3ses of the Shasta summit glow- 
ing Avith evening light, and again views down upon the 
far earth, wdiere sunlight had long faded, leaving forest 
and field and village sunken in purple gloom. Through 
the old broken crater lip, over foreground of pallid ice 
and sharp black lava rocks, the clouds whirled away, 
and, yawning wide, revealed an objectless expause, out 
of which emerged dim mountain tops, for a moment 
seen, then veiled. Thus, in the midst of clouds, I found 
it extremely interesting to watch them and their habits. 
Drifting slowly across the crater-bowl I saw them float 
over and among the points of cindery lava, whose savage 
forms contrasted wonderfully with the infinite softness 
of their texture. 

I found it strange and suggestive that fields of per- 
petual snow^ should mantle the slopes of an old lava 
caldron, that the very volcano's throat should be choked 
with a pure little lakelet, and sealed with unmelting ice. 
That power of extremes, which held sway over lifeless 
nature before there w^ere human hearts to experience its 
crush, expressed itself with poetic eloquence. Had Lowell 
been in our bivouac, I know he must have felt again the 
power of his own perfect figure of 

" Burned-out craters healed with snow." 

It was a wild moment. "Wind smiting in shocks against 
the rock beside us, flaring up our little fire, and whirling 



234 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

on with its cloud-freiglit into tlie darkening crater 
gulf. 

We turned in ; the Clarks together, Emmons and I in 
our fur bags. Upon cold stone our bed was anything but 
comfortable, angular fragments of trachyte finding their 
way with great directness among our ribs and under 
shoulder-blades, keeping us almost awake in that de- 
spairing semi-consciousness where dreams and thoughts 
tangle in tiresome confusion. 

Just after midnight, from sheer weariness, I arose, find- 
ing the sky cloudless, its whole black dome crowded with 
stars. A silver dawn over the slope of Shasta brightened 
till the moon sailed clear. Under its light all the rugged 
topography came out with unnatural distinctness, every 
impression of height and depth greatly exaggerated. The 
empty crater lifted its rampart into the light. I could 
not tell wliich seemed most desolate, that dim moonlit 
rim with pallid snow-mantle and gaunt crags, or the solid 
black shadow which was cast downward from southern 
walls, darkening half the bowl. From the silent air 
every breath of wind or whisper of sound seemed frozen. 
]N'aked lava slopes and walls, the high gray body of 
Shasta with ridge and gorge, glacier and snow-field, all 
cold and still under the icy brightness of the moon, pro- 
duced a scene of Arctic terribleness such as I had never 
imagined. I looked down, eagerly straining my eyes, 
through the solemn crater's lip, hoping to catch a glimpse 
of the lower world; but far below, hiding the earth, 
stretched out a level plain of cloud, upon which the 
light fell cold and gTay as upon a frozen ocean. 

I scrambled back to bed, and happily to sleep, a real, 
sound, dreamless repose. 

We breakfasted some time after sunrise, and were soon 
under way with packs on our shoulders. 



SHASTA. 235 

The day was brilliant and cloudless, the cold, still air 
full of life and inspiration. Through its clear blue the 
Shasta peak seemed illusively near, and we hurried down 
to the saddle which connects our cone with the peak, and 
across the head of a small tributary glacier, and up over 
the first debris slopes. It was a slow, tedious three hours' 
climb over stones which lay as steeply as loose material 
possibly can, up to the base of a red trachyte spur ; then 
on up a gorge, and out upon a level mountain shoulder, 
where are considerable flats covered with deep ice. To 
the north it overflows in a much crevassed tributary of 
the orlacier we had studied below. 

Here we rested, and hung the barometer from Clark's 
tripod. 

The further ascent lies up a long scoria ridge of loose, 
red, pumiceous rock for seven or eight hundred feet, then 
across another le\'el step curved with rugged ice, and up 
into a sort of corridor between two steep, much broken, 
and stained ridges. Here in the hollow are boiling sul- 
phurous springs and hot earth. We sat down by them, 
eating our lunch in the lee of some stones. 

A short, rapid climb brought us to the top ; four hours 
and thirty minutes working time from our crater bivouac. 

There is no reason why any one of sound wind and 
limb should not, after a little mountaineering practice, be 
able to make the Shasta climb. There is nowhere the 
shadow of danger and never a real piece of mountain 
climbing, — climbing, I mean, with hands and feet, — no 
scaling of walls or labor involving other qualities than 
simple muscular endurance. The fact that two young 
girls have made the ascent proves it a comparatively easy 
one. Indeed, I have never reached a corresponding alti- 
tude with so little labor and difliculty. AYlioever visits 
California, and wishes to depart from the beaten track of 



236 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Yosemite scenes, could not do better than come to Straw- 
berry Valley and get Mr. Sisson to pilot liim up Shasta. 

When I ask myself to-day what w^re the sensations on 
Shasta, they render themselves into three, — geograj)hy, 
shadows, and uplifted isolation. 

After we had walked alon^- a short curved ridcre wliich 
forms the summit, representing, as I believe, all that remains 
of the original crater, it became my occupation to study 
the view. 

A singularly transparent air revealed every plain and 
peak on till the earth's curve rolled them under remote 
horizons. The wliole great disc of world outspread be- 
neath wore an aspect of glorious cheerfulness. The cas- 
cade range, a roll of blue forest land, stretched northward, 
surmounted at intervals by volcanoes; the lower, like 
symmetrical Mount Pitt, bare and warm with rosy lava 
colors ; those farther north lifting against the pale, hori- 
zon-blue solid white cones upon which strong light rested 
w^ith brilliance. It seemed incredible that we could see 
so far toward the Columbia River, almost across the State 
of Oregon, but there stood Pitt, Jefferson, and the Three 
Sisters in unmistakable plainness. Northeast and east 
spread those great plains out of which rise low lava 
chains, and a few small, burued-out volcanoes, and there, 
too, were the group of Klamath and Goose Lakes lying in 
mid plain glassing the deep upper violet. Farther and far- 
ther from our mountain base in that direction the greenness 
of forest and meadow fades out into rich mellow brown, 
w^ith warm cloudings of sienna over bare lava hills, and 
shades, as you reach the eastern limit, in pale ash and 
lavender and buff, where stretches of level land slope 
down over Madelin plains into Nevada deserts. An un- 
mistakable purity and delicacy of tint, with transparent 
air and paleness of tone, give all desert scenes the aspect 



SHASTA. 237 

of water-color drawings. Even at this immense distance 
I could see the gradual change from rich, warm lines of 
rocky slope, or plain overspread with ripened vegetation, 
out to the high pale key of the desert. 

Southeast the mountain spurs are smoothed into a 
broad glacis, densely overgrown with chaparral, and end- 
ing in open groves around plains of yellow grass. 

A little farther begin the wild, canon-curved piles of 
green mountains which represent the Sierras, and afar, 
towering over them, eighty miles away, the lava dome 
of Lassen's Peak standing up bold and fine. South, the 
Sacramento canon cuts down to unseen depths, its deep 
trough opening a view of the California plain, a brown, 
sunny expanse, over which loom in vanishing perspective 
the coast range peaks. West of us, and quite around the 
semicircle of view, stretches a vast sea of ridges, chains, 
peaks, and sharp walls of canons, as wild and tumultuous 
'as an ocean storm. Here and there above the blue bil- 
lows rise snow-crests and shaggy rock-chains, but the 
topography is indistinguishable. With difficulty I could 
trace for a short distance the Klamath canon course, 
recognizing Siskiyon peaks, where Professor Brewer and 
I had been years before ; but in that broad area no fur- 
ther unravelling was possible. So high is Shasta, so 
dominant above the field of view, we looked over it all 
as upon a great shield which rose gently in all directions 
to the sky. 

Whichever way we turned the great cone fell off from 
our feet in dizzying abruptness. We looked down steep 
slopes of neve, on over shattered ice-wreck, where gla- 
ciers roll over cliffs, and around the whole broad massive 
base curved deeply through its lava crusts in straight 
canons. 

These flutings of ancient and grander glaciers are 



238 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

flanked by straight, long moraines, for the most part bare, 
but reaching down part way into the forest. It is in- 
teresting to observe that those on the north and east, by 
greater massiveness and length, indicate that in former 
days the glacier distribution was related to the points of 
compass about as it is now. Wliat volumes of geog- 
raphical history lay in view 1 Old mountain uplift ; 
volcanoes built upon the plain of fiery lava; the chill 
'of ice and wearing force of torrent, written in glacier- 
gorge and water-curved canon ! 

I think such vastness of prospect now and then ex- 
tremely valuable in itself ; it forcibly wddens one's con- 
ception of country, driving away such false notion of 
extent or narrowing idea of limitation as we get in living 
on lower plains. 

I never tire of overlooking these great wide fields, 
studying their rich variety, and giving myself up to the 
expansion which is the instant and lasting reward. In 
presence of these vast spaces and all but unbounded out- 
look, the hours hurry by with singular swiftness. Minutes 
or miles are nothing ; days and degrees seem best fitted 
for one's thouohts. So it came sooner than I could have 
believed that the sun neared its setting, sinking into a 
warm, bright stratum of air. The light stretched from 
north to south, reflecting itself with an equal depth all 
along the east, until a perfect ring of soft, glowing rose 
edged the whole horizon. Over us the ever dark heaven 
hung near and flat. Light swept eastward across the 
earth, every uplift of hill-ridge or solitary cone warm and 
bright with its reflections, and from each object upon the 
plains, far and near, streamed out dense, sharp shadows, 
slowly lengthening their intense images. We were far 
enough lifted above it all to lose the ordinary landscape 
impression, and reach that extraordinary effect of black- 



SHASTA. 239 

ancl-briglit topography seen upon the moon through a 
telescope. 

Afar in the north, bars of blue shadow streamed out 
from the peaks, tracing themselves upon rosy air. All 
the eastern slope of Shasta was of course in dark shade, 
the gray glacier forms, broken ridges of stone, and forest 
all dim and fading. A long cone of cobalt-blue, the 
shadow of Shasta fell strongly defined over the bright 
plain, its apex darkening the earth a hundred miles away. 
As the sun sank, this gigantic spectral volcano rose on 
the warm sky till its darker form stood huge and terri- 
ble over the whole east. It was intensely distinct at the 
summit, just as far-away peaks seen against the east in 
evening always are, and faded at base as it entered the 
stratum of earth mist. 

Grand and impressive we had thought Shasta when 
studying in similar light from the plain. Infinitely more 
impressive was this phantom volcano as it stood over- 
shadowing the land and slowly fading into night. 

Before quitting the ridge, Fred Clark and I climbed 
together out upon the highest pinnacle, a trachyte needle 
rising a few feet above the rest, and so small we could 
barely balance there together, but we stood a moment 
and waved the American flag, looking down over our 
shoulders eleven thousand feet, 

A fierce wind blew from the southwest, coming in 
gusts of great force. Below, we could hear it beat surf- 
like upon the crags. We hurried down to the hot-spring 
flat, and just over the curve of its southern descent made 
our bivouac. Even here the wind howled merciless and 
cold. 

AVe turned to and built of lava blocks a square pen 
about two and a haK feet high, filled the chinks with 
pebbles, and banked it with sand. I have seen other 



240 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA N^EVADA. 

brown-stone fronts more imposing than our Shasta home, 
but I have rarely felt more grateful to four walls than to 
that little six-by-six pen. I have not forgotten that 
through its chinks the sand and pebbles pelted us all 
night, nor was I oblivious when sudden gusts toppled 
over here and there a good-sized rock upon our feet. 
When w^e sat up for our cup of coffee, which Clark artis- 
tically concocted over the scanty and economical fire, the 
walls sheltered our backs ; and for that we w^ere thankful, 
even if the wind had full sweep at our heads and stole 
the very draught from our lips, whirling it about north 
forty east by compass, in the form of an infinitesimal 
spray. The zephyr, as we courteously called it, had a 
fashion of dropping vertically out of the sky upon our 
fire and leaving a clean hearth. For the space of a few 
moments after these meteorological jokes there was a 
lively gathering of burning knots from among our legs 
and coats and blankets. 

There are times when the extreme of discomfort so 
overdoes itself as to extort a laugh and put one in the 
best of humor. This tempest descended to so many 
absurd personal tricks altogether beneath the dignity of 
a reputable hurricane, that at last it seemed to us a sort 
of furious burlesque. 

Not so the cold ; that commanded entire respect, 
whether carefully abstracting our animal heat through 
the bed of gravel on which we lay, or brooding over us 
hungry for those pleasant little waves of motion which, 
taking Tyndall for granted, radiated all night long, in 
spite of wildcat bags, from our unwilling particles. I 
abominate thermometers at such times. Not one of my set 
ever owned up the real state of things. Whenever I am 
nearly frozen and conscious of every indurated bone, that 
bland little instrument is sure to read twenty or thirty 



SHASTA. 241 

degrees above any iinprejudiced estimate. Lying there 
and listening to the whispering sands that kindly drifted, 
ever adding to our cover, and speculating as to any fur- 
ther possible meteorological affliction was but indifferent 
amusement, from which I escaped to a slumber of great 
industry. We lay like sardines hoping to encourage ani- 
mal heat, but with small success. 

The sunrise effect, with all its splendor, I find it con- 
venient to leave to some future traveller. I shall be 
generous with him, and say nothing of that hour of gold. 
It had occurred long before we awoke, and many precious 
minutes were consumed in united appeals to one another 
to get up and make coffee. It was horridly cold and un- 
comfortable where we were, but no one stirred. How 
natural it is under such circumstances to 

*' Rather bear those ills we have 
Than fly to others that we know not of." 

I lay musing on this, finding it singular that I should 
rather be there stiff and cold while my like-minded com- 
rades appealed to me, than to get up and comfort myself 
with camp-fire and breakfast. We severally awaited 
developments. 

At last Clark gave up and made the fire, and he has 
left me in doubt whether he loved cold less or coffee 
more. 

Digging out our breakfast from drifted sand was pleas- 
ant enough, nor did we object to excavating the frozen 
shoes, but the mixture of disintegrated trachyte discov- 
ered amoncr the suojar, and the manner in which our 
brown-stone front had blown over and flattened out the 
family provisions was received by us as calamity. 

However, we did justice to Clark's coffee, and socially 
toasted our bits of meat, while we chatted and ate zest- 
11 p 



242 MOUNTAINEEEIXG IN THE SIEREA NEVADA, 

fully portions not too freely brecciated with lava sand. I 
have been at times all but morbidly aware of the power 
of local attachment, finding it absurdly hard to turn the 
key on doors I have entered often and with pleasure. 
My own early home, though in other hands, holds its 
own against greater comfort, larger cheer ; and a hundred 
times, when our little train moved away from grand old 
trees or willow-shaded springs by mountain camps, I 
have felt all the pathos of nomadism, from the Aryan 
migration down. 

As we shouldered our loads and took to the ice-field I 
looked back on our modest edifice, and for the first time 
left my camp with gay relief. 

Elation of success and the vital mountain air lent us 
their quickening impulse. We tramped rapidly across 
the ice-field and down a long spur of red trachyte, which 
extended in a southerly course around the head of a 
glacier. It was our purpose to descend the southern 
slope of the mountain, to a camp which had been left 
there awaiting us. The declivity in that direction is 
more gentle than by our former trail, and had besides the 
merit of lying open to our view almost from the very 
start. It was interesting, as we followed the red trachyte 
spur, to look down to our left upon neve of the McCloud 
glacier. From its A^ery head, dislocation and crevasses 
had begun, the whole mass moving away from the wall, 
leaving a deep gap between ice and rock. In its further 
descent this glacier pours over such steep cascades, and 
is so tortuous among the lava crags that we could only 
see its beginning. To avoid those great pyramidal masses 
which sprung fully a thousand feet from the general flank 
of the mountain, we turned to the right and entered the 
head of one of those long, eroded glacier caiions which 
are scored down the slope. The ridges from both sides 



SHASTA. 243 

had poured in their freight of dehris until the canon was 
one mass of rock fragments of every conceivable size and 
shape. Here and there considerable masses of ice and 
relics of former glaciers lay up and down the shaded 
sides, and, as we descended, occupied the whole broad 
bottom of the gorge. We congratulated ourselves when 
the steep, upper debris slope was passed and we found 
ourselves upon the wavy ice of the old glacier. Numer- 
ous streams flowed over its irregular face, losing them- 
selves in the cracks and reappearing among the accumu- 
lation of boulders upon its surface. Here and there 
glacier tables of considerable size rose above the general 
level, supported on slender ice-columns. As the angle 
here was very steep, we amused ourselves by prying 
these off their pedestals with our alpine stocks, and 
watching them slide down before us. 

]\Iore and more the ice became burdened with rocks, 
until at last it wholly disappeared under accumulation of 
moraine. Over this, for a half mile, we tramped, think- 
ing the glacier ended ; but in one or two depressions I 
again caught sight of the ice, wdiich led me to believe 
that a very large portion of this rocky gorge may be 
underlaid by old glacial remains. 

Tramping over this unstable moraine, where melting 
ice had left the boulders in every state of uncertain equi- 
librium, we were greatly fatigued, and at last, the strain 
telling seriously on our legs, we climbed over a ridge to 
the left of our amphitheatre into the next canon, which 
was very broad and open, with gentle, undulating surface 
diversified by rock plateaus and fields of glacier sand. 
Here, by the margin of a little snow-brook, and among 
piles of immense debris, Emmons and I sat down to 
lunch, and rested until our friends came up. 

A few scanty bunches of alpine plants began to deck 



244 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

the gray earth and gradually to gather themselves in bits 
of open sward, here and there decorated with delicate 
flowers. Near one little spring meadow we came upon 
gardens of a pale yellow flower with an agreeable aroma- 
tic perfume, and after another mile of straining on among 
erratic boulders and over the thick-strewn rock of the old 
moraines, we came to the advanced guard of the forest. 
Battle-twisted and gnarled old specimens of trees, of 
rugged, muscular trunk, and scanty, irregular branch, 
they showed in every line and color a life-long struggle 
against their enemies, the avalanche and cold. Gather- 
ing closer they grew in groves separated by long, open, 
grassy glades, the clumps of trees twisting their roots 
among the glacier blocks. For a long time we followed 
the pathway of an avalanche. To the right and left of 
us, upon considerable heights, the trees w^ere sound and 
whole, and preserved, even at their ripe age, the health 
of youth. But down the straight pathway of the valley 
every tree had been swept away, the prostrate trunks 
lying here and there, half buried in drifts of sand and 
rock. Here, over the whole surface, a fresh young 
growth of not more than six or seven years old has 
sprung up, and begun a hopeless struggle for ground 
which the snow claims for its own. Before us opened 
winding avenues through forest ; green meadows spread 
their pale, fresh herbage in sunny beauty. Along the 
little stream which, after a mile's musical cascades, we 
knew flowed past camp, tender green plants and frail 
mountain flowers edged our pathway. All w^as still and 
peaceful with the soft brooding spirit of life. The groves 
were absolutely alive like oui-selves, and drinking in the 
broad, affluent light in their silent, beautiful w^ay. Back 
over sunny tree-tops, the great cone of rock and ice 
loomed in the cold blue ; but we gladly turned away and 



SHASTA. 245 

let our liearts open to the gentle influence of our new 
world. 

There, at last ; as we tramped over a knoll, were the 
mules dozing in sunshine or idling about among trees, 
and there that dear blue ^\Teath floating up from our 
camp-fire and drifting softly among boughs of overhang- 
ing fir. 

I always feel a strange renewal of life when I come 
down from one of these climbs ; they are with me points 
of departure more marked and powerful than I can 
account for upon any reasonable ground. In spite of 
any scientific labor or presence of fatigue, the lifeless 
region, with its savage elements of sky, ice and rock, 
grasps one's nature, and, whether he will or no, compels 
it into a stern, strong accord. Then, as you come again 
into softer air, and enter the comforting presence of trees, 
and feel the grass under your feet, one fetter after another 
seems to unbind from your soul, leaving it free, joyous, 
grateful ! 



246 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 



XII. 



SHASTA FLANKS. 

There are certain women, I am informed, who place 
men under their speU without leaving them the mel- 
ancholy satisfaction of understanding how the thing 
was done. They may have absolutely repulsive fea- 
tures, and a pretty permanent absence of mind ; without 
that charm of cheerful grace before which we are said 
to succumb. Yet they manage to assume command of 
certain. It is thus with mules. I have heard them 
called awkward and personally plain, nor is it denied 
that their disposition, though rich in individuality, lacks 
some measure of qualities which should endear them to 
humanity. Despite aU this, and even more, they have a 
way of tenderly getting the better of us, and, in the long 
run, absolutely enthroning themselves in our aftections. 
Mystery as it is I confess to its potent sway, long ago 
owning it beyond solution. 

Live on the intimate terms of brother-explorer with 
your mule, be thoughtful for his welfare, and you by-and- 
by take an emotional start toward him which will sur- 
prise you. You look into that reserA^ed face, the embodi- 
ment of self-contained drollery, and begin to detect soft 
thought and tender feeling ; and sometimes, as you cinch 
your saddle a little severely, the calm, reproachful visage 
will swing round and melt you with a single look. Noth- 
ing is left but to rub tlie velvet nose and loosen up 
the girth. When the mere briglitness and gayety of 



SHASTA FLANKS. 247 

mountain life carries one away with their hilarious cur- 
rent, there is something in the meek and humble air of a 
lot of pack animals altogether chastening in its prompt 
effect. 

My "'69" was one of these insidious beings who 
within a week of our first meeting asserted su^^remacy 
over my life, and formed a silent partnership with my 
conscience. She was a chubby, black mule, so sleek and 
rotund as distantly to suggest a pig on stilts. Upon the 
eye which still remained, a cataract had begun to spread 
its dimming film. Her make-up was also defective in 
a weak pair of hind legs, which gave way suddenly in 
going up steep places. She was clumsy, and in rugged 
pathways would squander much time in the selection of 
her foothold. At these moments, when she deliberated, 
as I fancied, needlessly long, I have very gently suggested 
with Spanish spur that it might be as well to start ; the 
serious face then turned upon me, its mild eye looking 
ijito mine one long, earnest gaze, as much as to say, " I 
love and would spare you ; remember Balaam ! " I yielded. 

These animals are always of the opposition party ; they 
reverse your wishes, and from one year's end to another 
defy your best judgment. Yet I love them, and only 
in extreme moments " go for " them with a fence-rail or 
theodolite-tripod, l^othing can be pleasanter than to 
ride them through forest roads, chatting in a bright com- 
pany, and catching glimpses of far quiet scenery framed 
by the long, furry ears. 

So we thought on that sunny morning when we left 
Sisson's, starting ahead of wagons and pack animals, and 
riding out into tlie woodland on our trip around Shasta ; 
a march of a hundred miles, with many proposed side- 
excursions into the mountain. 

The California haze had again enveloped Shasta, this 



248 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

time nearly obscuring it. In forest along the southeast 
base, we came upon the stream flowing from McCloud 
glacier, its cold waters milky white with fine sandy sedi- 
ment. Such dense, impenetrable fields of chaparral cover 
the south foothills that we were only able to fight our 
way through limited parts, getting, however, a clear idea 
of lava flows and topography. Farther east, the plains 
rise to seven thousand feet, and fine wooded ridges sweep 
down from Shasta, inviting approach. 

While Munger and Watkins camped to make studies 
and negatives of the peak, Fred Clark and I packed one 
mule with a week's provisions, and mounting our saddle- 
animals, struck off into dark, silent forest. 

It was a steep climb of eight or ten miles up tree- 
covered ridges and among outcrops of gray trachyte; 
nearly every foot showing more or less evidence of 
glacial action ; long trains of morainal rocks upon which 
large forest-trees seemed satisfied to grow; great rough 
regions of terminal rubbish, with enclosed patches of 
level earth commonly grass -grown and picturesque. It 
was sunset before we came upon water, and then it flowed 
a thousand feet below us in the bottom of a sharp, narrow 
canon, cut abruptly down in what seemed glacial cUhris. 
I thought it unwise to take our mules down its steep 
wall if there were any camp-spot liigh up in the opener 
head of the canon, and went off on foot to climb the 
wooded moraines still farther, hoping to come upon a bit 
of alpine sward with icy pool, or even upon a spring. 
When up between ,two and three hundred feet the trees 
became less and less frequent, rugged trains of stone and 
glacier-scored rock in places covering the spurs. I could 
now overlook the snow amphitheatre which opened vast 
and shadowy above. Not a sign of vegetation enlivened 
its stony bed. The icy brook flowed between slopes of 



SHASTA FLANKS. 249 

debris. At my feet, a trachyte ridge narrowed the stream 
with a tortuo\is bed, and led it to the edge of a five hun- 
dred-feet cliff, over which poured a graceful cascade. 
Finding no cam^D-spot there, I turned northward and 
made a detour through deep woods, by-and-by coming 
back to Clark. We faced the necessity, and by dark 
were snugly camped in the wild canon bottom. It was 
one of the loneliest bivouacs of my life. Shut in by 
high, dark walls, a few clustered trees growing here and 
there, others which floods had undermined lying pros- 
trate, rough boulders thrown about, an icy stream hurry- 
ing by, and chilly winds coming down from the height, 
against which our blankets only haK defended us. 

Our excursion next day was south and west, across 
high, scantily wooded moraines, till we came to the deep 
canon of the McCloud glacier. 

I describe this gorge as it is one of several similar, all 
peculiar to Shasta. "We had climbed to a point about ten 
thousand feet above the sea, and were upon the eastern 
edge of a canon of eleven or twelve hundred feet depth. 
From the very crest of the Shasta, with here and there a 
few patches of snow, a long and remarkably even debris 
slope swept down. It seemed as if these small pieces of 
trachyte formed a great part of the region, for to the very 
bottom our canon walls were worked out of it. A half 
mile below us the left bank was curiously eroded by side 
streams, resulting in a family of pillars from one to seven 
hundred feet high, each capped with some hard lava 
boulder which had protected the soft debris beneath 
from weathering. From its lofty neve the IMcCloud 
glacier descended over rugged slopes in one long cas- 
cade to a little above our station, where it impinged 
against a great rock buttress and turned sharply from 
the south wall towards us, rounding over in a great solid 
11* 



250 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ice-dome eiglit or nine hundred feet high. For a mile 
farther, a huge accumulation looking like a river of 
debris cumbered the l^ottom. Here and there, on close 
scrutiny, we found it to be pierced with caverns whose 
ice-walls showed that the glacier underlaid all this vast 
amount of stone. Boulders rattled continually from the 
upper glacier and down both canon walls, increasing the 
already great burden. Along both sides w^ere evidences 
of motion in the lateral moraine embankments, and a 
very perceptible rounding up of terminal ramparts, from 
which in white torrent poured the sub-glacial brook. 

It is instructive to consider what an amount of freight- 
ing labor this shrunken ice-stream has to perform besides 
dragging its own vast weight along. In descending 
Shasta we had found glacial ice which evidently for a 
mile or more deeply underlaid a mass of rock similar to 
this. It is one of the curiosities of Mount Shasta that 
such great bulk of ice should be buried, and in large part 
preserved, by loads of rock fragments. Fine contrasts of 
color were afforded high up among the serac by a com- 
bination of blue ice and red lavas. "We hammered and 
surveyed here for half the day, then descended to our 
mules, who bote us eagerly back to their home, our wierd 
little canon camp. 

A pleasant day's march, altogether in woods and over 
glacial ridges, during which not a half hour passed with- 
out opening views of the cone, brought us high on the 
northern slope, at the upper forest limit, in a region of 
barren avalanche tracks and immense moraines. 

Between those great straight ridges wliich jut almost 
parallel from the volcano's base, are wide, shelving val- 
leys, the pathways of extinct glaciers ; and here the 
forest, although it must once have obtained foothold, has 
been uprooted and swept away before powerful ava- 



SHASTA FLANKS. 251 

lanches, crushed and up-piled trunks in sad wreck mark- 
ing spots where the snow-rush sto2)ped. 

Two brooks, separated by a wide, gently rounding zone 
of drift, flowed down through the glacier valley which 
opened directly in front of our camp. 

Early next morning Clark and I made up a bag of 
lunch, shouldered our instruments, and set out for a day 
on the glacier. Our slow, laborious ascent of the valley 
was not altogether uninteresting. Constant views ob- 
tained of moraines on either side gave us much pleasure 
and study. It was instructive to observe that the bases 
of their structure were solid floors of lava, u23on which, 
in rude though secure masonry, were piled embankments 
not less than half a mile wide and four hundred feet 
high. Among the huge rocks which formed 'the upj)er 
structure, the tree-forms were peculiar. Apparently every 
tree had made an effort to fill some gap and round out 
the smooth general surface. 'No matter how deeply twisted 
between high boulders, the branches spread themselves 
out in a continuous, dense mat, stretching from stone to 
stone. It was only rarely, and in the less elevated parts 
of the moraine, that we could see a trunk. The whole 
effect was of a causeway of rock overgrown by some 
dense green vine. 

Similar patches of stunted trees grew here and there 
over the bottom of our broad amphitheatre. Oftentimes 
we threaded our way among dense thickets of pines, 
never over six or eight feet in height, having trunks 
often two and tln^ee feet in diameter, and more than once 
we walked over their tops, our feet sinking but two or 
three inches into the dense mat of foliage. Here and 
there, half buried in the drift, we came across the tall, 
noble trunks of avalanche-killed trees. In comparing 
their straight, symmetrical growth with the singularly 



252 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

matted condition of the living dwarfed trees, I find the 
indication of a great climatic change. Not only are the 
present avalanches too great to permit their growth, but the 
violent cold winds which drift over this region bend down 
the young trees to such an extent that there are no longer 
tall, normal specimens. Around the upper limits of 
arborescent vegetation we passed some most enchanting 
spots ; groves, not over eight feet in height, of large trees 
whose white trunks and interwoven boughs formed a 
colonnade, over which stretched thick living thatch. 
Under these strange galleries we walked upon soft, 
velvety turf and an elastic cushion of pine-needles ; nor 
could we resist the temptation of lying down here to 
rest beneath the dense roof. As w^e looked back, charm- 
ing little vistas opened between the old and dwarfed 
stems. In one direction we could see the moraine Avith 
its long, graded slope and variegated green and brown 
surface ; in another, the open pathway of the old glacier 
worn deeper and deeper between lofty forest-clad spurs ; 
and up to the great snow mass above us, with its slender 
peak in the heavens looking down upon magnificent 
sweep of neve. 

Only the strong desire for glaciers led us away from 
these delightful groves. A short tramp over sand and 
boulders brought us to the foot of a broad, irregular, ter- 
minal moraine. Two or three millcy cascades poured out 
from under the great boulder region and united to form 
two important streams. We followed one of; these in our 
climb up the moraine, and after an hour's hard work, 
found ourselves upon an immense pile of lava blocks, 
from which we could overlook the whole. 

In irregular curve it continues not less than three 
miles around the end of the glacier, and in no place that 
I saw was less than a half mile in width. Where we had 



SHASTA FLANKS. 253 

attacked it the width cannot be less than a mile, and the 
portion over which we had climbed must reach a thick- 
ness of five or six hundred feet. 

About a half mile above us, though but little lifted 
from our level, undulating hillocks of ice marked the 
division between glacier and moraine ; above that, it 
stretched in uninterrupted white fields. The moraine 
in every direction extended in singularly abrupt hills, 
separated by deep, irregular pits and basins of a hundred 
and more feet deep. 

As we climbed on the footing became more and more 
insecure, piles of rock giving way under our weight. 
Before long we came to a region of circular, funnel- 
shaped craters, where evidently the underlying glacier 
had melted out and a whole freight of boulders fallen in 
with a rush. Around the edges of these horrible traps 
we threaded our way with extreme caution, now and 
then a boulder, dislodging under our feet, rolled down 
into these pits, and many tons would settle out of sight. 
Altogether it was the most dangerous kind of climbing I 
have ever seen. You were never sure of your foothold. 
]\Iore than once, when crossing a comparatively smooth, 
level boulder-field, they began to sink under us, and we 
sprang on from stone to stone while the great mass caved 
and sank slowly behind us. At times, while making our 
way over solid seeming stretches, the sound of a deep, 
sub-glacial stream flowing far beneath us came up faint 
and muffled through the chinks of the rock. This sort 
of music is not encouraging to the nerves. To the siren 
babble of mountain brook is added all the tragic nearness 
of death. 

We looked far and wide in hope of some solid region 
which should lead us up to the ice, but it was all alike, 
and we hurried on, the rocks settling and sinking beneath 



254 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

our tread, -until we made our way to its edge, and climbed 
with relief upon its hard, white surface. After we had 
gained the height of an hundred feet, climbing up a 
comparatively smooth slope between brooks which flowed 
over it, a look back gave a more correct idea of the 
general billowy character of our moraine ; and here and 
there in its deeper indentations we could detect the un- 
derlying ice. 

It is, then, here as upon the McCloud glacier. For at 
least a mile's width the whole lower zone is buried under 
accumulation of morainal matter. Instead of ending like 
most Swiss glaciers, this ice wastes chiefly in contact with 
the ground, and when considerable caverns are formed 
the overlying moraine crushes its way tlirough the rotten 
roof, making the funnels we had seen. 

Thankful that we had not assisted at one of these 
engulfments, we scrambled on up the smooth, roof-like 
slope, steadying our ascent by the tripod legs used as 
alpine stock. When we had climbed perhaps a thou- 
sand feet the surface angle became somewhat gentler, 
and we were able to overlook before us the whole broad 
incline up to the very peak. For a mile or a mile and 
a half, the sharp blue edges of crevasses were apparent 
here and there yawning widely for the length of a thou- 
sand feet, and at other places intersecting each other 
confusedly, resulting in piled-up masses of shattered 
ice. 

AYe were charmed to enter this wild region, and hur- 
ried to the edge of an immense chasm. It could hardly 
have been less than a thousand or twelve hundred feet in 
length. The solid white wall of the opposite side — 
sixty feet over — fell smooth and vertical for a hundred 
feet or more, where rough wedged blocks and bridges of 
clear blue ice stretched from waU to waU. From these 



SHASTA FLANKS. 255 

and from numerous overhanging shelves hung the long 
crystal threads of icicles, and beyond, dark and impene- 
trable, opened ice-caverns of unknown limit. We cau- 
tiously walked along this brink, examining with deep 
interest all the lines of stratification and veining, and the 
stranae succession of views down into the fractured 
regions below. 

I had the greatest desire to be let down with a rope 
and make my way among these pillars and bridges of ice, 
but our little twenty feet of slender rope forbade the 
attempt. Farther up, the crevasses walled us about more 
and more. At last we got into a region where they cut 
into one another, breaking the whole glacier body into a 
confused pile of ice blocks. Here we had great difficulty 
in seeing our way for more than a very few feet, and 
were constantly obliged to climb to the top of some 
dangerous block to get an outlook, and before long, 
instead of a plain with here and there a crevasse, we 
were in a mass of crevasses separated only by thin and 
dangerous blades of ice. 

We still pushed on, tied together with our short line, 
jumping over pits and chasms, holding our breath over 
slender snow-ridges, and beginning to think the work 
serious. We climbed an ice-crag together ; all around 
rose strange, sharp forms ; below, in every direction, 
yawned narrow cuts, caves trimmed with long stalactites 
of ice, walls ornamented with crystal pilasters, and dark- 
blue grottoes opening down into deeper and more gloomy 
chambers, as silent and cold as graves. 

Far above the summit rose white and symmetrical, its 
sky-line sweeping down sharp against the blue. Below, 
over ice-\vreck and frozen waves, opened the deep valley 
of camp, leading our vision down to distant forest slopes. 

We were in the middle of a vast convex glacier surface 



256 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

which embraced the curve of Shasta for four miles around, 
and at least five on the slope line, ice stretching in every 
direction and actually bounding the view on all sides 
except where we looked down. 

The idea of a mountain glacier formed from Swiss or 
Indian views is always of a stream of ice walled in by 
more or less lofty ridges. Here a great curved cover of 
ice flows down the conical surface of a volcano without 
lateral walls, a few lava pinnacles and inconspicuous piles 
of debris separating it from the next glacier, but they 
were unseen from our point. Sharp white profiles met 
the sky. It became evident we could go no farther in 
the old direction, and we at once set about retracing our 
steps, but in the labyrinth soon lost the barely discernible 
tracks and never refound them. Whichever way we 
turned impassable gulfs opened before us, but just a 
little way to the right or left it seemed safe and trav- 
ersable. At last I got provoked at the ill-luck, and sug- 
gested to Clark that we might with advantage take a 
brief intermission for lunch, feeling that a lately quieted 
stomach is the best defence for nerves. So when we 
got into a pleasant, open spot where the glacier be- 
came for a little way smooth and level, we sat down, 
leisurely enjoying our repast. We saw a possible way 
out of our difficulty, and sat some time chatting pleas- 
antly. When there was no more lunch we started 
again, and only three steps away came upon a narrow 
crack edged by sharp ice-jaws. There was something 
noticeable in the hollow, bottomless darkness seen 
through it which arrested us, and when we had 
jumped across to the other side, both knelt and 
looked into its depths. We saw a large domed grotto 
walled in with shattered ice and arched over by a 
roof of frozen snow so thin that the Light came through 



SHASTA FLANKS. 257 

quite easily. The middle of tliis dome overhung a ter- 
rible abyss. A block of ice thrown in fell from ledge to 
ledge, echoing back its stroke fainter and fainter. We 
had unconsciously sat for twenty minutes lunching and 
laughing on the thin roof, with only a few inches of 
frozen snow to hold us up over that still, deep grave. A 
noonday sun rapidly melting its surface, the warmth of 
our persons slowly thawing it, and both of us playfully 
drumming the frail crest with our tripod legs. We looked 
at one another, and agreed that we lost confidence in 
glaciers. 

Splendid rifts now opened to north of us, with slant 
sunshine lighting up one side in vivid contrast with the 
cold, shadowed wall. We greatly enjoyed a tall preci- 
pice with a gaping crevasse at its base, and found real 
pleasure in the north edge of the great ice-field, whither 
we now turned. A low moraine, with here and there 
a mass of rock which might be solid, flanked the glacier, 
but w^as separated from it by a deeply melted crevasse, 
opening irregular caverns along the wall down under 
the very glacier body. We were some time searching a 
point wdiere this gulf might be safely crossed. A thin 
tongue of ice, sharpened by melting to a mere blade, 
jutted from the solid glacier over to the moraine, offering 
us a passage of some danger and much interest. We 
edged our way alofig astride its crest, until a good spring 
carried us over a final crevasse and up upon the moraine, 
which we found to be dangerously built up of honey- 
combed ice and boulders. The same perilous sinks and 
holes surrounded us, and alternated with hollow arch- 
ways over ■ subterranean streams. It was a relief, after 
an hour's labor, to find ourselves on solid lava, although 
the ridge, which proved to be a chain of old craters, 
w^as one of the most dreary reaches I have ever seen. 



258 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

In the evidence of glacier motion there had seemed a 
form of life, but here among silent, rigid crater rims and 
stark fields of volcanic sand, we walked npon ground 
lifeless and lonely beyond description : a frozen desert at 
nine thousand feet altitude. Anions? the huoe rude forms 
of lava we tramped along, happy when the tracks of 
mountain sheep suggested former explorers, and pleased 
if a snowbank under rock shadow gave birth to spring 
or pool. But the severe impression of arctic dreariness 
passed off when, reaching a rim, we looked over and 
down upon the volcano's north foot, a superb sweep of 
forest country waved w^ith ridgy flow of lava and grace- 
fully curved moraines. 

Afar off, the wide sunny Shasta Valley, dotted with 
miniature volcanoes, and checked with the yellow and 
green of grain and garden, spread jDleasantly away to the 
north, bounded by Klamath hills and horizoned by the 
blue rank of Siskiyon ^Mountains. To our left the cone 
slope stretched away to Sisson's, the sharp form of the 
Black Cone rising in the gap between Shasta and Scott 
Mountain. 

Here again the tremendous contrast between lava and 
ice about us, and that lowly expanse of ranches and ver- 
dure impressed anew its peculiar force. 

We tramped on along the glacier edge, over rough 
ridges and slopes of old moraine, rounding at last the ice 
terminus, and crossing the valley to camp, where our 
three mules welcomed us with friendly discord. 

A day's march over forest-covered moraines and through 
open glades brought us to the main camp at Sheep Eock, 
uniting us with our friends. The heavier air of this lower 
level soothed us into a pleasant laziness which lasted over 
Sunday, resting our strained muscles and opening the 
heart anew to human and sacred influence. If we are 



SHASTA FLANKS. 259 

sometimes at pain when realizing within what narrow 
range of latitude mankind reaches finer development, 
how short a step it is from tropical absence of Sj^iritual 
life to dull boreal stupidity, it is added humiliation to 
experience our marked limitation in altitude. At four- 
teen thousand feet, little is left me but bodily appetite 
and impression of sense. The habit of scientific ob- 
servation, which in time becomes one of the involun- 
tary processes, goes on as do heart-beat and breathing ; a 
certain general awe overshadows the mind; but on de- 
scending again to lowlands, one after another the whole 
riches of the human organization come back with de- 
licious freshness. Something of this must account for 
my delight in finding the family of Preuxtemps (a half- 
Cherokee mountaineer known hereabouts as Pro-tem) 
camped near us. Protem was a barbarian by choice, and 
united all the wilder instincts with a domestic passion 
worthy his Caucasian ancestor, and quite charming in its 
childlike manifestation. 

Protem mere, an obese Digger squaw, so evidently 
avoided us that I respected her feelings and never once 
visited their bivouac, although the flutter of gaudy rags 
and that picturesque squalor of which she and the camp- 
fire were centre and soul, sorely tempted me. 

Tlie old man and his four little barefoot girls, if not 
actually familiar were more than sociable, and spent 
much time with us. The elder three, ranging from eight 
to twelve, were shy and timid as little quails, dodging 
about and scampering off to some hiding-place when I 
strove to introduce myself through the medium of such 
massive sweet-cakes as our William produced, i^ot so 
the little six-year old Clarissa, who in all frankness met 
my advances and repaid me for the cookies she silently 
devoured by gentlest and most fascinating smiles. 



260 MOUNT AIXEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

A stained and eartli-hued flour-sack rudely gathered 
into a band was her skirt, and confined the little, loner- 
sleeved, j)ink calico sack. From out a voluminous sun- 
bonnet with long cape shone the chubby face of my little 
friend. For all she was so young and charmingly small, 
Clarissa was woman rather than child. She took entire 
care of herself, and prowled about in a self-contained 
way, making studies and observations with ludicrous 
gravity. Early mornings she came with slow matronly 
gait down to the horse-trough, and rolling up her sleeves, 
laid aside the huge sun-bonnet, washed her face and 
hands, wiping them on her petticoat, and arranged her 
jetty Indian hair with the quiet unconsciousness of fifty 
years. 

Her good-morning nod, with the reserved yet affection- 
ate smile, put me in happiness for the day, ajud when as 
I strolled about she overtook me and placed her little 
hand in mine, looking up with fearless, quiet confidence, 
I measured step with her, and we held sweet chats about 
squirrels and field-mice. But I thought her most charm- 
ing w^hen she brought her father down to our camp-fire 
after supper, and, alternately on his knee or mine, list- 
ened to our stories and wound a soft little arm about 
my neck. The twilight passed agreeably thus, Clarissa 
gradually paying less and less attention to our yarns, till 
she pulled the skirts of my cavalry coat over her, and 
curling up on my lap laid her dear little head on 
my breast, smiled, gaped, rubbed with plump knuckles 
the blinking eyes, dozed, and at last sank into a deep 
sleep. 

I can even now- see old Protem draw an ex]Dlanatory 
map on the ground his moccasin had smoothed, and go 
on with his story of bear fight or wolf trap, illustrating 
by singularly apt gesture every trait and motion of the 



SHASTA FLANKS. 261 

animal lie described, while fireliglit warmed the brown 
skin and ruddy cheek of my little charge and flickered on 
her soft black hair. 

The last bear story of an evening being ended, Protem 
took from me Clarissa, wdiose single yawn and pretty 
bewilderment subsided in a second, leaving her sound 
asleep on the buckskin shoulder of her father. 

About half way between Sheep Eock and the snow- ,? 
line extensive eruptions of basalt have occurred, deluging^ r 
the lower slopes, and flowing in gently inclined fields ana 
streams down through Shasta Valley for many mileg. 
The surface of this basalt country is singularly diversi- 
fied. Rising above its general level are numerous domes, 
some of them smoothly arched over with rock, others 
perforated at the top, and more broken in circular para- 
pets. The origin of these singular bhsters is probably 
simple. Overflowing former trachyte fields the basalt 
swept down, covering a series of pools and brooks. The 
w^ater converted into steam blew up the viscous rock in 
such forms as we find. Here and there the basalt sur- 
face opens in circular orifices, into which you may look 
a hundred feet or more. 

In 1863, in company with Professor Brewer, I visited 
this very region, and we were then showm an interesting 
tubular cavern lying directly under the surface of a lava 
plain. 

Mr. Palmer and I revisited the spot, and, having tied our 
mules, descended through a circular hole to the cavern's 
mouth. An .archway of black lava sixty feet wide by 
eighty high, with a floor of lava sand and rough boulders, 
led under the basalt in a northerly direction, preserving 
an incline not more than the gentle slope of the country. 
Our roof overhead could hardly have been more than 
twenty or thirty feet thick. We followed the cavern. 



\ 




262 MOUNTAIXEERIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

wliicli was a comparatively regular tube, for half or three- 
quarters of a mile. Now and then the roof would open 
up in larger chambers, and the floor be cumbered with 
huge piles of lava, over which we scrambled, sometimes 
nearly reaching the ceiling. Fresh lava-froth and smooth 
blister-holes lined the sides. Innumerable bats and owls 
on silent wing floated by our candles, fanning an ah' 
singularly still and dense. 

After a cautious scramble over a long pile of immense 
basalt blocks, we came to the end of the cave, and sat 
down upon piles of debris. We then repeated an experi- 
ment, formerly made by Brewer and myself, of blowing 
out our candle to observe the intense darkness, then 
firing a pistol that we might hear its dull, muffled 
explosion. 

The formation of this cave, as explained in Professor 
Whitney's Geological Eeport, is this : A basalt stream, 
flowing down from Shasta, cooled and hardened upon the 
surface, while within the mass remained molten and fluid. 
From simple pressure the lava burst out at the lower end, 
and flowing forth left an empty tube. Wonderfully fresh 
and recent the whole confused rock-walls appeared, and 
we felt, as we walked and climbed back to the opening 
and to daylight, as if we had been allowed to travel back 
into the volcano age. 

One more view of Shasta, obtained a few days later 
from Well's ranch on the Yreka road, seems worthy of 
mention. From here the cone and side crater are in 
line, making a single symmetrical form with broad 
broken summit singularly like Cotopaxi. 

You look over green meadows and cultivated fields ; 
beyond is a chain of little volcanoes girdling Shasta's 
foot, for the most part bare and yellow, but clouded in 
places with dark forest, which a little farther up mantles 



SHASTA FLANKS. 263 

the broad grand cone, and sweeps ^up over ridge and 
canon to alpine heights of rock and ice. 

Strange and splendid is the evening effect from here, 
when shadow over base and light upon summit divide 
the vast pile into two zones of blue-purple and red-gold. 
We watched the colors fade and the peak recede farther 
and dimmer among darkness and stars. 



264 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVAD.L 



XIII. 

MOUNT WHITKEY. 

There lay between Carson and Mount Wliitney a ride 
of two hundred and eighty miles along the east base of 
the Sierra. Stage-driving, like other exact professions, 
gathers among its followers certain types of men and 
manners, either by some mode of natural selection or else 
after a Darwinian way developing one set of traits to the 
exclusion of others. However interesting it might be 
to investigate the moulding power of whip and reins, 
or to discover what measure of coachman there is latent 
in every one of us, it cannot be questioned that the 
characters of drivers do resemble one another in sur- 
prising degree. That ostentatious silence and self-con- 
tained way of ignoring one's presence on the box for the 
first half hour, the tragi-comic, just audible undertone in 
which they remonstrate with the swing team, and such 
single refrain of obsolete song as they drone and drone a 
hundred times, may be observed on every coach from San 
Diego to Montana. 

So I found it natural enough that the driver, my sole 
companion from Carson to Aurora, should sit for the first 
hour in a silence, etiquette forbade me to violate. His 
team, by strict attention to their duties, must have left 
his mind quite free, and I saw symptoms of suppressed 
sociability within forty minutes of our departure. 

The nine-mile house, if my memory serves, was his 
landmark for taciturnity, for soon after passing it he be- 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 265 

gan to skirmisli along a sort of picket line of conversation. 
To the wheel mares he remarked, '•' hot, gals ; ain't it tho' ? " 
and to his off leader, who strained wild eyes in every di- 
rection for something to become excited about, " look at 
him Dixie, would n't you like a rabbit to shy at ? " 

With a true driver's pride in reading men, he scanned 
me from boots to barometer, and at last, to my immense 
delight, said, with the air of throwing his hat into a ring, 
" AVhat mountain was you going down to measure ? " 
Had he inquired after my grandfather by his first name, 
I could not have been more surprised.' At once I told 
him the plain truth, and waited for further developments ; 
but like an indifferent shot wdio drives centres on a first 
trial he proposed not to endanger his reputation for infal- 
libility by other ventures, and withdrew again to that 
conspicuous stupidity which coachmen and Buddhists 
alike delight in. 

Left to myself, I spent hours in looking out over the 
desert and up along that bold front of Sierra which rose 
on our right from the sage plains of Carson Yalley up 
through ramparts of pine land to summits of rock and 
ravines with sunken snow-banks. 

So far as Aurora, I remember little worth describing. 
Sierras, or outlying volcanic foot hills, bound the west. 
About our road are desert plains and rolling sage-clad 
hills, fresh light olive at this June season, and softly slop- 
ing in long glacis down to wide impressive levels. 

Green valleys and cultivated farms margin the Carson 
and Walker rivers. Sierras are not lofty enough to be 
grand, desert too gentle and overspread with sage to be 
terrible ; yet the pale high key of all its colors, and sin- 
gular aerial brilliancy lend an otherwise dreary enough 
picture the charm, — as I once before said, — of water- 
color drawings. There is no perspective under this fierce 

12 



266 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

white light ; in midday, intensely sharp reflections glare 
from hill and valley, except where the shadow of passing 
cloud spreads cool and blue over olive slopes. 

Alas for Aurora once so active and bustling with silver 
mines and its almost daily murder. Twenty-six whiskey 
hells and two Vigilance Committees graced those days of 
prosperity and mirthful gallows, of stock-board and the 
gay delirium of speculation. iSTow her sad streets are 
lined with closed doors ; a painful silence broods over 
quartz mills, and through the whole deserted town one 
perceives that melancholy security of human life which 
is hereabouts one of the pathetic symptoms of bankruptcy. 
The " boys " have gone off to merrily shoot one another 
somewhere else, leaving poor Aurora in the hands of a 
sort of coroner's jury who gather nightly at the one saloon 
and^ hold dreary inquests over departed enterprise. 

My landlord's tread echoed tlirough a large empty hotel, 
and when I responded to his call for lunch the silentest 
of girls became medium between me and a Chinaman 
who gazed sad-eyed through his kitchen door as in pity for 
one who must choose between starving and his own cook- 
ery. But I have always felt it unpardonable egotism for 
a traveller to force the reader into sharing with him the 
inevitable miseries of roadside food. Whatever merit 
there may be in locking this i^randial grief fast from 
public view, I feel myself entitled to in a high degree, 
for I hold it in my power to describe the most revolting 
cuisine on the planet, yet refrain. 

From Aurora my road, still parallel with the moun- 
tains though now hidden from them by banks of volcanic 
hills, climbed a long wearisome slope from whose summit 
a glorious panorama of snowy Sierras lay before us. 
From our feet, steep declivities sloped two thousand feet 
to the level of a wide desert basin, bounded upon the west 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 267 

by long ranks of liigli white peaks, and otherwise walled 
in by chains of volcanic hills, smooth with dull sage flanks, 
and yet varied here and there by out-cropping formations 
of eruptive rocks and dusky cedar forests. 

Just at the Sierra foot, surrounded by bare gray vol- 
canoes and reaches of ashen plain, lies Mono lake, a broad 
oval darkened along its farther shore by reflecting the 
shadowed mountains, and pale tranqnil blue where among 
light desert levels it mirrors the silken softness of sky 
and cloud. Flocks of pelicans, high against the sky, 
floated in slow wheeling flight, reflecting the sun from 
white wings, and turning, w^ere lost in the blue to gleam 
out again like flakes of snow. 

The eye ranges over strange forbidding hill-forms and 
leagues of desert, from which no familiarity can ever 
banish suggestions of death. Traced along boundary hills, 
straight terraces of an ancient beach indicate former 
water-levels, and afar in the Sierra, great empty gorges, 
glacier-burnished and moraine-flanked, lead up to amphi- 
theatres of rock once white with neve. 

I recognized the old familiar summits : Mount Eitter, 
Lyell, Dana, and that firm peak with titan strength and 
brow so square and solid, it seems altogether natural we 
should have named it for California's statesman, John 
Conness. 

AVe rumbled down hill and out upon the desert, plod- 
ding until evening through sand, and over rocky, cedar- 
wooded spurs, at last crossing adobe meadows, where 
were settlements and a herd of Spanish cattle which had 
escaped the drought of California, and now marched, 
northward bound, for Montana. 

Frowning volcanic hills flanked our road as evening 
w^ore on, lifting dark forms against a sky singularly pale 
and luminous. Afar, we caught glimpses of the dark 




268 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

swellijig Sierra wave thrusting up "star-neighboring 
peaks," and then descending into hollows among lava 
mounds, found ourselves shut completely in. A night at 
the Hot Sjjrings of Partzwick was notably free from any- 
thing which may be recounted. 

Mornino- found me waitinor alone on the hotel veranda, 
and I suppose the luxuries of the establishment must 
have left a stamp of melancholy upon my face, for the 
little solemn driver who drew up his vehicle at the door 
said in a tone of condolence, " the hearse is ready." 

Stages, drivers and teams had been successively worse 
as I journeyed southward. This little old specimen, by 
whose side I sat from Partzwick to Independence, ought 
to be excepted, and I should neglect a duty were I not to 
portray one, at least, of his traits. He was a musical old 
fellow, and given to chanting in low tones songs, some- 
times pathetic, often sentimental, but in every case pre- 
served by him in most fragmentary recollection. Such 
singing suffered, too, from the necessary and frequent in- 
terruption of driving ; the same breath quavering in 
cracked melody, and tossing some neatly rounded oath 
or horse-phrase at off or near wheeler, catching up an 
end of the refrain again in time to satisfy his musical 
requirements. 

All the morning he had warned me most impressively 
to count myself favored if a certain bridge over Bishop's 
Creek should not sink under us and cast me upon wild 
waters. Eightly estimating my friend, I was not surprised 
when we reached the spot to find a good solid structure 
bridging a narrow creek not more than four feet deep. 

As we rolled on down Owen's Valley, he sang, chatted, 
and drove in a manner which showed him capable of three 
distinct, yet simultaneous mental processes. I follow his 
words as nearly as memory serves. 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 269 

" That creek, sir, was six feet deep. 

* Oh Lillie, sweet Lillie, dear Lillie Dale.' 

What the devil are you shying at ? You cursed mustang, 
come up out of that ; 

'little green grave.' 

Yes, seven feet, and if we 'd have fell in, swimming 
would n't saved us. 

You, Bailey, what are you a doin' on ; 

' 'JSTeath the hill in the flowing vale.' 

and what's more, we could n't have^ crawled up that bank, 
no how. 

'My own dear Lillie Dale.' 

You 'd like to kick over them traces, would you ? Keep 
your doggoned neck up snug against that collar, and take 
that. 

We 'd drowned, sir ; drowned sure as thunder. 

' In the place where the violets grow.' " 

Desert hills, and low, mountain gateways opening views 
of vast sterile plains, no longer form our eastern outlook. 
The White Mountains, a lofty barren chain vieing with 
the Sierras in altitude, rose in splendid rank and stretched 
southeast parallel with the great range. Down the broad 
intermediate trough flows Owen's river, alternately through 
expanses of natural meadow and desolate reaches of sage. 

The Sierra, as we travelled southward, grew bolder and 
bolder, strong granite spurs plunging steeply down into the 
desert ; above, the mountain sculpture grew grander and 
grander, until forms wild and rugged as the Alps stretched 
on in dense ranks as far as the eye could reach. More 
and more the granite came out in all its strength. Less 
and less soil covered the slopes : groves of pine became 
rarer, and sharp, rugged buttresses advanced boldly to the 



270 MOUNT AIXEERIXG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

plain. Here and there a canon-gate between rougli gran- 
ite pyramids, and flanked by huge moraines, opened its 
savage gallery back among peaks. Even around the sum- 
mits there was but little snow, and the streams which at 
short intervals flowed from the m'ountain foot, traversing 
the plains, were sunken far below their ordinary volume. 
The mountain forms and mode of sculpture of the oppo- 
site ranges are altogether different. The White and Inyo 
chains, formed chiefly of uplifted sedimentary beds, are 
largely covered with soil, and wherever the solid rock is 
exposed, its easily traced strata plains and soft wooded 
surface combined in producing a general aspect of breadth 
and smoothness ; while the Sierra, here more than any- 
where else, hold up a front of solid stone, carved into 
most intricate and highly ornamental forms. Vast 
aiguilles, trimmed from summit to base with line of slen- 
der minarets, huge broad domes, deeply fluted and sur- 
mounted witli tall obelisks, and everywhere the greatest 
profusion of bristUng points. 

From the base of each range a long sloping talus de- 
scends gently to the river, and here and there, bursting up 
through Sierra foot-hills, rise the red and black forms of 
recent volcanoes as regular and barren as if cooled but 
yesterday. 

I had reason -for not regretting my departure from the 
Inyo House at Independence next morning before sun- 
rise; and when a young woman in an elaborate brown 
calico, copied evidently from some imperial evening 
toilet, pertly demanded my place by the driver, adding 
that she was not one of the " inside kind," I willingly 
yielded, and made myself contented on the back seat 
alone. Presently, however, a companion came to me in 
the person of a middle-aged Spanish donna, clad alto- 
gether in black, with a shawl worn over her head after 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 271 



tlie manner of a mantilla. When it began to rain vio- 
lently and beat upon that brown calico, I made bold to 
offer the young woman my sheltered place, but she gayly 
declined, averring herself not made of sugar. So the donna 
and I shared my great coat across our laps and established 
relations of civility, though she spoke no !^nglish, and I 
only that little Spanish so much more embarassing than 
none. 

In her smile, in the large soft eyes, and that tinge of 
Castilian blood which shone red-warm through olive 
cheek, I saw the signs- of a race blessed with sturdier 
health than ours. With snowy hair growing low on a 
massive forehead, and just a glimpse now and then of 
large gold beads, through a white handkerchief about her 
throat, she seemed to me a charming picture : though, 
perhaps, her fine looks gained something by contrasting 
with the sicldy girl in front, whose pallor and cough 
could not have meant less than the pretubercular state. 

Clouds covered the mountains on either hand, leaving 
me only ranches and people to observe. May I be forgiven 
if I am wrong in accounting for the late improvement of 
political tone in Tuolumne by the presence here of so 
large a share of her most degraded citizens ; people whose 
faces and dress and life and manners are sadder than any 
possibilities held up to us by Darwin. 

My long ride ended in a few hours at Lone Pine, where, 
from the hotel window, I watched a dark-blue mass of 
storm which covered and A^eiled the region where I knew 
my goal, the Whitney summit, must stand. 

For two days storm-curtams hung low about Sierra 
base, their vaj)or banks, dark with fringes of shower, at 
times drifted out over Lone Pine and quenched a thirsty 
earth. On the third afternoon blue sky shone through 
rifts overhead, and now and then a single peak, dashed 



272 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NTVADA. 

with broken sunshine, rose for a moment over rolling 
clouds which swelled above it again like huge billows. 

About an hour before sunset the storm began rapidly 
to sink into level fold, over which, in clear yellow light, 
emerged " cloud-compelling " peaks. The liberated sun 
poured down shafts of light, piercing the mist which 
no\\; in locks of gold and gray blew about the mountain 
heads in wonderful splendor. 

How deep and solemn a blue filled the canon depths ! 
what passion of light glowed around the summits ! With 
delight I watched them one after another fading till only 
the sharp terrible crest of Whitney, still red with reflected 
light from the long sunken sun, showed bright and glori- 
ous above the whole Sierra. 

Upon observing the topography, I saw that one bold 
spur advanced from Mount Whitney to the plain ; on 
either side of it profound canons opened back to the 
summit. I remembered the impossibility of making "a 
climb up those northern precipices, and at once chose the 
more southern gorge. 

Next morning we set out on horseback for the mountain 
base, twelve miles across plains and through an outlying 
range of hills. My companion for the trip was Paul 
Pinson, as tough and plucky a mountaineer as France ever 
sent us, who consented readily to follow me. Jos6, the 
mild-mannered and grinning Mexican boy who rode with 
us, was to remain in care of our animals at the foot-hills 
where we made the climb. 

I left a Green barometer to be observed at Lone Pine, 
and carried my short high-mountain instrument, by the 
same excellent maker. 

Gauzy mists again enveloped the Sierra, leaving us free 
minds to enjoy a ride, of which the very first mile sup- 
plied me food for days of thought. 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 273 

The American residents of Lone Pine outskirts live in 
a homeless fashion ; sullen, alnK)st arrogant neglect stares 
out from the open doors. There is no attempt at grace, no 
memory of comfort, no suggested hope for improvement. 

Not so the Spanish homes ; their low, adobe, wide-roofed 
cabins neatly enclosed with even basket-work fence, and 
lining hedge of blooming hollyhock. 

We stopped to bow good morning to my friend and 
stage companion, the donna. She sat in the threshold of 
her open door, sewing ; beyond her stretched a bare floor, 
clean and white : the few chairs, the table spread with 
snowy linen, everything, shone with an air of religious 
spotlessness. Symmetry reigned in the precise, well-kept 
garden, arranged in rows of pepper-]3lants and crisp heads 
of vernal lettuce. 

I longed for a painter to catch her brilliant smile, and 
surround her on canvas as she w^as here, with order and 
dignity. The same plain, black dress clad her heavy 
ample figure, and about the neck heavy barbaric gold 
beads served again as collar. 

Under low eaves above her, and quite around the house, 
hung, in triple row, festoons of flaming red peppers, in 
delicious contrast with the rich adobe gray. 

It was a study of order and true womanly repose, fitted 
to cheer us, and a grouping of such splendid color as 
might tempt a painter to cross the world. 

A little farther on we passed an Indian ranch ero where 
several willow wickyups w^ere built upon the bank of a 
cold brook. Half naked children played about here and 
there, a few old squaws bustled at household work ; but 
nearly all lay outstretched, dozing. A sort of tattered 
brilliancy characterized the place. Gay, high-colored 
squalor reigned. There seemed hardly more lack of 
thrift or sense of decorum than in the American ranches, 

12* R 



274 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

yet somehow the latter send a stab of horror through one, 
while this quaint indolence and picturesque neglect seem 
aptly contrived to set off the Indian genius for loaiing, and 
leave you with a sort of aesthetic satisfaction, rather than 
the sorrow their half development should properly evoke. 

Leaving all this behind us, our road led westward across 
a long sage slope entering a narrow tortuous pass through 
a low range of outlying granite hills. Strangely weath- 
ered forms towered on eitlier side, their bare brown surface 
contrasting pleasantly with the vivid ribbon of willows 
which wove a green and silver cover over swift water. 

The granite was riven with innumerable cracks, show- 
ing here and there a strong tendency to concentric forms, 
and I judged the immense spheroidal boulders which lay 
on all sides, piled one upon another, to be the kernels 
or nuclei of larger masses. 

Quickly crossing this ridge we came out upon the true 
Sierra foot-slope, a broad inclined plain stretching north 
and south as far as we could see. Directly in front of us 
rose the rugged form of Mount Whitney spur, a single 
mass of granite, rough-hewn, and darkened with coniferous 
groves. The summits were lost in a cloud of almost 
indigo hue. 

Putting our horses at a trot we quickly ascended the 
glacis, and at the very foot of the rocks dismounted, and 
made up our packs. Jose, with the horses, left us and 
went back half a mile to a mountain ranch where he was 
to await our return ; and presently Pinson and I, with 
heavy burdens upon our backs, began slowly to work our 
way up the granite spur and toward the great canon. 

An liour's climb brought us around upon the south 
wall of our spur, and about a tliousand feet above a stream 
which dashed and leaped along the canon bottom, through 
wild ravines and over granite bluffs. Our slope was a 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 275 

rugged Pock-face, giving foothold here and there to pine 
and juniper trees, but for the greater part bare and bold. 

Far above, at an elevation of ten thousand feet, a dark 
grove of alpine pines gathered in the canon bed. Thither 
we bent our steps, edging from cleft to cleft, making con- 
stant, though insignificant, progress. At length our walk 
became so wdld and deeply cut with side canons, we found 
it impossible to follow it longer, and descended carefully 
to the bottom. 

Almost immediatel37", with heavy wind gusts and sound 
as of torrents, a storm broke upon us, darkening the air 
and drenching us to the skin. The three hours we toiled 
up over rocks, through dripping willow-brooks and among 
trains of debris, w^ere not noticeable for their cheerful- 
ness. 

The storm had ceased, but it was evening when, wet 
and exliausted, we at length reached the alpine grove, and 
threw ourselves down for rest under a huge overhanging 
rock w^hich offered its shelter for our bivouac. 

Logs, soon brought in by Pinson, w^ere kindled. The 
hot blaze seemed pleasant to us, though I cannot claim to 
have enjoyed those two hours spent in turning round and 
round before it wdiile steaming and drying. But the 
broiled beef, the toast, and those generous cups of tea to 
wdiich we devoted the hour between ten and eleven were 
quite satisfactory. So, too, was the pleasant chat till 
midnight w^arned us to roll up in overcoats and close our 
eyes to the fire, to the dark sombre grove, and far stars 
crowding the now cloudless heavens. 

The sun arose and shone on us while we breakfasted. 
Through all the visible sky not a cloud could be seen, 
and, thanks to yesterday's rain, the air was of crystal 
purity. Into it the granite summits above us projected 
forms of sunlit gray. 



276 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

Up the glacier valley above camp we slowly tramped 
through a forest of noble Piniis Flexilis, the trunks of 
bright sienna contrasting richly with deep bronze foliage. 

Minor flutings of a medial moraine offered gentle grade 
and agreeable footing for a mile and more, after which, 
by degrees, the woods gave way to a wide, open amphi- 
theatre surrounded with cliffs. 

I can never enter one of these great hollow mountain 
chambers without a pause. There is a grandeur and spa- 
ciousness which expand and fit the mind for yet larger 
sensations when you shall stand "on the height above. 

Velvet of alpine sward edging an icy brooklet by whose 
margin we sat down, reached to the right and left far 
enough to spread a narrow foreground, over which we 
saw a chain of peaks swelling from either side toward our 
amphitheatre's head, where, springing splendidly over 
them all, stood the sharp form of Whitney. 

Precipices white witli light and snow fields of incan- 
descent brilliance grouped themselves along walls and 
slopes. All around us, in wild, huge heaps, lay wreck of 
glacier and avalanche. 

We started again, passing the last two, and began to 
climb painfully up loose debris and lodged blocks of the 
north wall. From here to the very foot of tliat granite 
pyramid which crowns the mountain, we found neither 
difficulty nor danger, only a long, tedious climb over foot- 
ing which, from time to time, gave way provokingly. 

By this time mist floated around the brow of Mount 
Whitney, forming a gray helmet, from which, now and 
then, the wind blew out long waving plumes. After a 
brief rest Ave be^^an to scale the southeast rid^e, climb- 
ing from rock to rock, and making our way up steep fields 
of soft snow. Precipices, sharp and severe, fell away to 
east and west of us, but the rougli pile above still afforded 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 277 

a way. We had to use extreme caution, for many blocks 
hung ready to fall at a touch, and the snow, where we 
were forced to work up it, often gave way, threatening to 
hurl us down into cavernous hollows. 

When within a hundred feet of the top I suddenly fell 
through, but, supporting myself by my arms, looked down 
into a grotto of rock and ice, and out through a sort of 
window, over the western bluffs, and down thousands 
of feet to the far away valley of the Kern. 

I carefully and slowly worked my body out, and crept 
on hands and knees up over steep and treacherous ice- 
crests, where a slide would have swept me over a brink 
of the southern precipice. 

We kept to the granite as much as possible, ■ Pinson 
taking one train of blocks and I another. Above us but 
thirty feet rose a crest, beyond which we saw nothing. I 
dared not think it the summit till we stood there, and 
Mount Whitney was under our feet. 

Close beside us a small mound of rock was piled upon 
the peak, and solidly built into it an Indian arrow-shaft, 
pointing due west. 

I climbed out to the southwest brink, and, looking down, 
could see that fatal precipice which had prevented Ine 
seven years before. I strained my eyes beyond, but al- 
ready dense, impenetrable clouds had closed us in. 

On the whole, this climb was far less dangerous than I 
had reason to hope. Only at the very crest, where ice 
and rock are thrown together insecurely, did we en- 
counter any very trying work. The utter unreliableness 
of that honeycomb and cavernous cliff was rather un- 
comfortable, and might, at any moment, give the death- 
fall to one who had not coolness and muscular power at 
instant command. 

I hung my barometer from the mound of our Indian 



278 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

predecessor, nor did I grudge his hunter pride the honor 
of first finding that one pathway to the summit of the 
United States, fifteen thousand feet above two oceans. 

While we lunched I engraved Pinson's and my name 
upon a half dollar, and placed it in a hollow of the crest. 
Clouds still hung motionless over us, but in half an hour 
a west wind drew across, drifting the heavy vapors along 
with it. Light poured in, reddening the clouds, which 
soon rolled away, opening a grand view of the western 
Sierra ridge, and of the whole system of the Kern. 

Only here and there could blue sky be seen, but fortu- 
nately the sun streamed through one of these windows in 
the storm, lighting up sj^lendidly the snowy rank from 
Kaweah to Mount Brewer. 

There they rose as of old, firm and solid ; even the 
great snow-fields, though somewhat shrunken, lay as they 
had seven years before. I saw the peaks and passes and 
amphitheatres, dear old Cotter and I had climbed : even 
that Mount Brewer pass where we looked back over the 
pathway of our dangers, and up with regretful hearts to 
the very rock on which I sat. 

Deep below flowed the Kern, its hundred snow-fed 
branches gleaming out amid rock and ice, or traced far 
away in the great glacier trough by dark lines of pine. 
There, only twelve miles northwest, stretched that ragged 
divide where Cotter and I came down the precipice with 
our rope. Beyond, into the vague blue of King's canon, 
sloped the ice and rock of Mount Brewer wall. 

Sombre storm-clouds and -their even gloomier shadows 
darkened the northern sea of peaks. Only a few slant 
bars of sudden light flashed in upon purple granite and 
fields of ice. The rocky tower of Mount Tyndall, thrust 
up through rolling billows, caught for a moment the full 
light, and then sank into darkness and mist. 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 279 

Wlien all else was buried in cloud we watched the 
great west range. Weird and strange, it seemed shaded 
by some dark eclipse. Here and there through its gaps 
and passes, serpent-like streams of mist floated in and 
d'ept slowly down the canons of the hither slope, then 
all along the crest, torn and rushing spray of clouds 
whirled about the peaks, and in a moment a vast gray 
wave reared high, and broke, overwhelming all. 

Just for a moment every trace of vapor cleared away 
from the east, unveiling for the first time spurs and 
gorges and plains. I crept to a brink and looked down 
into the Whitney canon, which was crowded with light. 
Great scarred and ice-hewn precipices reached down four 
thousand feet, curving together like a ship, and holding 
in their granite bed a thread of brook, the small sapphire 
gems of alpine lake, bronze dots of pine, and here and 
there a fine enamelling of snow. 

Beyond and below lay Owen's Valley, walled in by the 
barren Inyo chain, and afar, under a pale sad sky, length- 
ened leagues and leagues of lifeless desert. 

Tlie storm had even swept across Kern canon, and 
dashed high against the peaks north and south of us. A 
few sharp needles and spikes struggled above it for a 
moment, but it rolled over them and rushed in torrents 
down the desert slope, burying everything in a dark swift 
cloud. 

Wq hastened to pack up our barometer and descend. 
A little way down the ice crust gave way under Pinson, 
but he saved himself, and we hurried on, reaching safely 
tlie cliff-base, leaving all dangerous ground above us. 

So dense was the cloud we could not see a hundred 
feet, but tramped gayly down over rocks and sand, feeling 
quite assured of our direction, until suddenly we came 
upon the brink of a precipice and strained our eyes off 



280 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

into the mist. I threw a stone over and listened in vain 
for the sound of its fall. Pinson and I both thouoht we 
had deviated too far to the north, and were on the briiik 
of Whitney canon, so ^ve turned in the opposite direction, 
thinking- to cross the ridge entering our old amphitheatre, 
but in a few moments we again found ourselves upon the 
verge. Tliis time a -stone we threw over, answered witli 
a faint dull crash from five hundred feet below. We 
were evidently upon a narrow blade. I remembered no 
such place, and sat down to carefully recall every detail 
of topography. At last I concluded that we had either 
strayed down upon the Kern side, or were on one of the 
cliffs overhanging the head of our true amphitheatre.- 

Feeling the necessity of keeping cool, I determined to 
ascend to the foot of the snow and search for our tracks. 
So we slowly climbed there again and took a new start. 

By this time the wind howled fiercely, bearing a chill 
from snow-crystals and sleet. We hurried on before it, 
and afteT one or two vain attempts, succeeded in finding 
our olcl trail down the amphitheatre slope, descending very 
rapidly to its floor. 

From here, an exhausting tramp of five hours through 
the pine forest to our camp, and on down the rough 
wearying slopes of the lower canon, brought us to the 
plain where Josd and the horses awaited us. 

From Lone Pine that evening, and from the open 
carriage in which I rode northward to Independence, I 
constantly looked back and up into the storm, hoping to 
catch one more glimpse of Mount Whitney ; but all the 
range lay submerged in dark rolling cloud, from which 
now and then a sullen mutter of thunder reverberated. 

For years our chief, Professor Whitney, has made brave 
campaigns into the unknown realm of Nature. Against 
low prejudice and dull indifference he has led the survey 



MOUNT WHITNEY. 281 

of California onward to success. There stand for him 
two monuments, — one a great report made by his own 
hand ; another the loftiest peak in the Union, begun for 
him in tlie planet's youth and sculptured of enduring 
granite by the slow hand of Time. 



XIY. 

THE PEOPLE. 

If mankind were offspring of isothermal lines and 
topography, we might arrive at a just criticism of Sierra 
Nevada people by that cheap and rapid method so much 
in vogue nowadays among physical geographers. Their 
practice of dragooning the free-agent with wet and dry 
bulb thermometers would help us to predict the future of 
Sierra society but little more securely than Madam Saint 
John, who also deals in coming events. I fear we have" 
no better tlian the old way of developing what lies ahead 
logically from yesterday and to-day, adding large measure 
of sympathy with human aspiration and faith in divine 
help. 

AVliy all sorts and conditions of men from every race 
upon the planet wanted gold, and twenty years ago came 
here to win it, I shall not concern myself to ask. Nor 
can I formulate very accurately the proportions of good, 
bad, and indifferent dramatis jpersonce upon whom the 
golden curtain of '49 rolled up. 

No venerated landmark or sacred restraint held those 
men in check. There were no precedents for the acting, 
no play-book, no prompter, no audience. " Anglo-Saxon- 
dom's idea " reigned supreme, developing a plot of riotous 
situation, and inconceivably sudden change. Wit and 
intellect wrought a condition the most ambitious sav- 
ages might regard with baffled envy. History would 
not, if she could, parallel the state of society here from 



THE PEOPLE. 283 

'49 to '55, nor can we imagine to what height of horror it 
might have reached had the Sierra drainage held unlimit- 
ed gold. Those were lively days. Tlie penniless '49 er 
still looks back to them wdth bleared eyes as. the one 
period of his life. " Dust " was plenty and to be had, if 
not for digging, at the modest price of a bullet. 

To prove the soil's fertility he tells you proudly, how, 
in those years, wild oats on every hill grew tall enough to 
be tied across your saddle-bow. This irony of nature has 
passed away, but the cursed plant ripens its hundredfold 
in life and manner. 

No one familiar with society as it then was feels the 
least surprise that Mr. Bret Harte should deal so largely 
in morbid anatomy, or appear to search painfully for a 
sinoie noble trait to redeem the common bad. Yet not 
universal bad, for there were not wanting a few strong 
Christian men wdio amid all, kept their eyes on the one 
model, leading^ lives blameless if obscure. 

Broadly, through all kind and condition, shone the 
virtue of generous, if not self-denying hospitality. A 
sort of open-handed fraternity banded together the 
honest miners ; they were shoulder to shoulder in 
common quest of gold, in united effort to make the 
" camp " lively. Tlie " fraternity " too often emulated 
that of Cain, or wore a ghastly likeness to the Co7n- 
mtcne. That those desperadoes, who, through the long 
chain of mining towns outnumbered respectable men, 
had so generally the fixed habit of killing one another, 
should rather be w^ritten down to their credit ; that they 
never married to hand down lawless traits, seems their 
crowning virtue. 

For a few years the solemn pines looked down on a 
mad carnival of godless license, a pandemonium in whose 
picturesque delirium human character crumbled and van- 
ished like dead leaves. 



284 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

It was stirring and gay, "but Melpomene's pathetic face 
was always under that laughing mask of comedy. 

This is the unpromising origin of our Sierra Civiliza- 
tion. It may be instructive to note some early steps of 
improvement; a protest, first silent, then loud, which 
went up against disorder and crime ; and later, the inaug- 
uration of justice, in form if not reality. 

There occurs to me an incident illustrating these first 
essays in civil law^ ; it is vouched for by my friend, an 
unwilling actor in the affair. 

Exactly why horse-stealing should have been so early 
recognized as a heinous sin it is not easy to discover ; 
however that might be, murderers continued to notch the 
number of their victims on neatly kept hilts of pistol or 
knives, in comparative security, long after the horse thief 
began to meet his hempen fate. 

Early in the fifties, on a still, hot summer's afternoon, 
a certain man, in a camp of the northern mines which 
shall be nameless, having tracked his two donkeys and 
one horse a half-mile, and discovering that a man's track 
with spur-marks followed them, came back to town and 
told " the boys," who loitered about a popular saloon, that 
in his opinion some Mexican had stole the animals. 

Such news as this naturally demanded drinks all round. 
" Do you know, gentlemen," said one who assumed leader- 
ship, " that just naturally to shoot these Greasers ain't the 
best way. Give 'em a fair jury trial, and rope 'em up 
with all the majesty of law. That 's the cure." 

Such words of moderation were well received, and they 
drank again to " liere 's hoping we ketch that Greaser." 

As they loafed back to the veranda a Mexican walked 
over the hill brow, jingling his spurs pleasantly in accord 
with a whistled waltz. 

The advocate for law said in undertone, " That 's the 
cuss." 



THE PEOPLE. 285 

A rush, a struggle, and the Mexican, bound liand and 
foot, lay on his back in the bar-room. The camp turned 
out to a man. 

Happily such cries as " String him up ! " " Burn the 
doggoned ' lubricator ! ' " and other equally pleasant 
phrases fell unheeded upon his Spanish ear. 

A jury, upon which they forced my friend, was quick- 
ly gathered in the street, and despite refusals to serve, the 
crowd imrried them in behind the bar. 

A brief statement of the case was made by the ci devant 
advocate, and they shoved the jury into a commodious 
poker-room, where were seats grouped about neat, green 
tables. The noise outside in the bar-room by and by died 
away into complete silence, but from afar down the canon 
came confused sounds as of disorderly cheering. 

They came nearer, and again the light-hearted noise 
of human laughter mingled with clinking glasses around 
the bar. 

A low knock at the jury door ; the lock burst in, and 
a dozen smiling fellows asked the verdict. 

A forem.an promptly answered " Not guilty!' 

With volleyed oaths, and ominous laying of hands on 
pistol hilts, the boys slammed the door with, "You'll 
have to do better than that ! " 

In half an hour the advocate gently opened the door 
ac'ain. 

o 

" Your 029m^o?^, gentlemen ? " 

" Guilty ! " 

" Correct ! You can come out. We hung him an hour 
ago." 

The jury took theirs next ; and when, after a few min- 
utes, the pleasant village returned to its former tranquil- 
lity, it was " allowed " af more than one saloon that 
" Mexicans '11 know enouj^h to let white men's stock 



286 MOUNT AlXEERI>sG IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

alone after this." One and another exchanged the belief 
that this sort of thing was more sensible than " ' nipping ' 
'em on sight." 

When, before sunset, the bar-keeper concluded to sweep 
some dust out of his poker-room back-door, he felt a mo- 
mentary surprise at finding the missing horse dozing under 
the shadow of an oak, and the two lost donkeys serenely 
masticating playing-cards, of which many busliels lay in 
a dusty pile. 

He was reminded then that the animals had been there 
all day. 

During three or four years the battle between good and 
bad became more and more determined, until all positive 
characters arrayed themselves either for or against public 
order. 

At length, on a sudden, the party for right organized 
those august mobs, the Vigilance Committees, and quickly 
began to festoon their more depraved fellow-men from tree 
to tree. Eogues of sufficient shrewdness got themselves 
enrolled in the vigilance ranks, and were soon unable to 
tell themselves from the most virtuous. Those quiet oaks, 
whose hundreds of sunny years had been spent in length- 
ening out glorious branches, now found themselves play- 
ing the part of public gibbet. 

Let it be distinctly understood that I am not passing 
criticism on the San Francisco organization, which I have 
never investigated, but on " Committees " in the moun- 
tain towns, with whose performance I am familiar. 

The Yigilants quickly put out of existence a majority 
of the worst desperadoes, and, by their swift, merciless 
action, struck such terror to the rest, that ever after, the 
right has mainly controlled affairs. 

This was, iierlia'ps, well. With characteristic prompt- 
ness they laid down their power, and gave California over 



THE PEOPLE. 287 

to the constituted authorities. This was magnificent. 
They deserve the commendation due success. They 
have, however, such a frank, honest way of singing their 
praise, such eternal, undisguised and virtuous self-lauda- 
tion over the whole matter, that no one else need interrupt 
them with fainter notes. 

Although this generation has written its indorsement 
in full upon the transaction, it may be doubted if history 
(how long is it before dispassionate candor speaks ?) will 
trace an altogether favorable verdict upon her pages. 
Possibly, to fulfil the golden round of duty, it is needful 
to do riglit in the right way, and success may not be 
proven the eternal test of merit. 

That the vigilance committees grasped the moral power 
is undeniable ; that they used it for the public salvation 
is equally true ; but the best advocates are far from 
showing that with skill and moderation they might not 
have thrown their weight into the scale luith law, and 
conquered, by means of legislature, judge, and jury, a 
peace wholly free from the stain of lawless blood. 

An impartial future may possibly grant the plenary 
inspiration of vigilance committees. Perhaps that better 
choice was in truth denied them; it may be the hour 
demanded a sudden blow of self-defence. Whether better 
or best, the act has not left unmixed blessing, although it 
now seems as if the lawlessness, which even till these 
later years has from time to time manifested itself, is 
gradually and surely dying out. Yet to-day, as I write, 
State troops are encamped at Armador, to suppress a 
spirit winch has taken law in its own hand. 

With the gradual decline of gold product, something 
like social equilibrium asserted itself. By 1860, Cali- 
fornia had made the vast inspiring stride from barbarism 
to regularity. 



288 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

In failing gold-industr^j, and the gradual abandonment 
of placer-ground to Chinamen, there is abundant pathos. 
You see it in a hundred towns and camps where empty- 
buildings in disrepair stand in rows ; no nailing up of 
blinds or closing of doors hides the vacancy. The cheap 
squalor of Chinese streets adds misery to the scene, 
besides scenting a pure mountain air with odors of com- 
plete wretchedness. Pigs prowl the streets. Every de- 
serted cabin knows a story of brave manly effort- ended 
in bitter failure, and the lingering stranded men have a 
melancholy look as of faint fish the ebb has left to die. 

I recall one town into which our ]3arty rode at evening. 
A single family alone remained, too desperately poor to 
leave their home ; all the other buildings — cliurch, post- 
office, the half-dozen saloons, and many dwellings — 
standing with wide-open doors, their cloth walls and 
ceilings torn down to make squaw petticoats. 

If our horses in the great deserted livery stable were 
as comfortable as we, wdio each made his bed on a billiard 
table, they did well. 

With this slow decay the venturous, both good and 
bad, have drifted off to other mining countries, leaving 
most often small cause to regret them. 

Pathos and comedy so tenderly blent can rarely be 
found as here. Enterprise has shrunken away from its 
old belongings ; a feeble rill of trade trickles down tlie 
broad channel of former affluence. Those few '49ers who 
linger ought to be gently preserved for historic speci- 
mens, as we used to care for that cannon-ball in the 
Boston bricks, or whatever might remind this youthful 
country of a past. They are altogether harmless now, 
possessing the peculiar charm of lions Avith drawn teeth. 

Behold this old-school relic, a type known as the real 
Viro'inia cfentleman, as of a mild summer twilit'ht he 



THE PEOPLE. 289 

walks along the quiet street, clad in black broadcloth 
and spotless linen, a heavy cane hanging by its curved 
handle from his wrist. He pauses by the "s'loon/' re- 
ceiving respectful salutation from a mild company of 
bummers who hold him in awe, and call him nothing less 
than " Judge." They omit their habitual sugar-and- 
w^ater, and are at pains to swallow as stiff a glass and 
as neat as their hero. 

The Judge is reminded of livelier days by certain un- 
healed bullet-holes in ceiling and wall, and recounts for 
the hundredth time, in chaste language, the whole affair; 
and in particular how three-fingered Jack blew the top 
of AUabam's head off, and that stopped it all. 

" We buried the six," the Judge continues, " side and 
side, and it was n't a week before two of us found old 
Jack and his partner on the same limb, and they made 
eight graves. The ball that made that hole went through 
my hat, and I travelled after that for a while, till the 
thing sort of blew over." 

" Ah ! boys," he winds up, in tones tremulous with 
tearful regret, "you fellows will never see such lively 
times as we of the early days." 

His tall figure passes on with uncertain gait, stopping 
at garden fences here and there to execute one or two old 
school compliments for the ladies who are spending their 
evenings under vine-draped porches ; and when he takes 
an easy-chair by invitation, and begins a story laid in the 
spring of '50, the Judge is conscious in his heart that the 
full saloon veranda is looking and saying, ''The wim- 
mun always did like him." 

The '49 rough, too, still stays in almost every camp. 
He evaded rope by joining the "Vigilants," and has 
become a safe and fangless wolf in sheep's clothing. 
He found early that he could spunge and swindle a 

13 s 



290 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

larger amount from any given community than could 
be plundered, to say nothing of the advantages of per- 
sonal security. But now all these characters are, God be 
thanked ! few and widely scattered. Our present census 
enrolls a safe, honest, reputable population, who respect 
law and personal rights, and who, besides, look into the 
future with a sense of responsibility and resolve. 

It is very much the habit of newly arrived people to 
link the past and present too closely in their estimate of 
the existing status. That dreadful nightmare of early 
years is unfortunately, not to say cruelly, mixed up with 
to-day. I think this must in great measure account for 
the virtuous horror of that saintly army of travellers who 
write about California, taking pains to open fire (at sub- 
limely long range) with their very hottest shot upon the 
devoted dwellers here. Such bombardment in large 
pica, with all the added severity of double -leading, does 
not interrupt the Sierra tranquillity ; they marry and are 
given in marriage, as in the days of Noah, regardless 
of explosions of many literary batteries. Nor is this 
peaceful state altogether because the projectiles fall short. 
There are people here who read, and read thoroughly. 
Can we think them hyper-sensitive if surjDrised when, 
after opening heart and doors to scribbling visitors, they 
find themselves held up to ridicule or execration in un- 
impeachable English and tasteful typography ? 

An equally false impression is spread by that consid- 
erable class of men whose courage and energy were not 
enough to win in open contest there, and who publicly 
shake off dust from departing feet, go East in ballast, and 
make a virtue of burning their ships, forgetful that for 
one waterlogged craft a hundred stanch keels will furrow 
the Golden Gate. 

Between the cruelly superficial criticism of most East- 



THE PEOPLE. 291 

ern writers, and dark predictions from those smug proph- 
ets, the physical geographers, Californians have nothing 
left them but their own conscious powei; ; not the poorest 
reliance in practical business, like building futures, one 
should say. 

I am not going to deny that even yet there flickers up 
now and then a lingering flame of that '49 Inferno. If 
I did, the lively and picturesque cmto-cla-f4 of " Austrian 
George," the other day, would be moved to amend me. 

We must admit the facts. California people are not 
living in a tranquil, healthy, social regime. They are 
provincial, — never, however, in a local way, but by 
reason of limited thought. Aspirations for wealth and 
ease rise conspicuously above any thirst for intellectual 
culture and moral peace. Energy and a glorious audacity 
are their leading traits. 

To the charge of light-hearted gayety, so freely trump- 
eted by graver home critics, I plead them guilty. There 
is nowhere that dull, weary expression, and rayless sedate- 
ness of face we of jSTew England are fonder of ascribing to 
our tender conscience than to east winds. So, too, are 
wanting difficulties of bronchia and lungs, which might 
inferentially be symptoms of original sin. 

Is Californian cheerfulness due to widespread moral 
levity, or because perpetual sunshine and green salads 
through the round year tempt weak human nature to 
smile ? 

I believe it climatic, and humbly offer my tribute to 
the thermometer-man, who among many ventures has 
this time probably stumbled upon truth. 

Let us not grieve because the writers and lecturers 
have not found Californian society all their ideals de- 
manded, for (saving always the dry-bulb readers of past 
and future) their dictum is confined to existing con- 



292 MOUNTAINEERING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 

ditions. Have they forgotten tliat these are less potent 
factors in development than the impulse, that what a man 
is, is of far less consequence than ^Yhat he is becoming ? 

Show these gloomy critics a bare stretch of vulgar 
Sierra earth, and they will tell you how barren, how 
valueless it is, ignorant that the art of any Californian 
can banish every grain of sand into tlie Pacific's bottom, 
and gather a residuum of solid gold. Out of the race of 
men whom they have in the same shallow way called 
common, I believe Time shall separate a noble race. 

Travelling to-day in foothill Sierras, one may see the 
old, rude scars of mining; trenches yawn, disordered 
heaps cumber the ground, yet they are no longer bare. 
Time, with friendly rain, and wind and flood, slowly, 
surely, levels all, and a compassionate cover of innocent 
verdure weaves fresh and cool from mile to mile. Wliile 
Nature thus gently heals the humble Earth, God, who is 
also Nature, moulds and changes Man. 



THE END. 



Cambridge: Elecht.tv . o" I Print. 1 by Welch, Ligelow, & Co. 



